Deep Water
by PandaTurtle333
Summary: Now that they have laid what they hope is a strong foundation, Anna Wycoff and the others work to build lives for themselves in Alexandria. But, nothing is ever simple in the new world, where consequences seem to ripple from even the smallest choices. In the sixth installment of the S.O.S. series, the survivors try to keep each other afloat as they wade into deeper waters.
1. Prologue

_37 days after the fall of the farm house…_

Anna pressed herself into the seat, the buckle digging into her side. Her body shivered as she rubbed at her face, nudging the cloth over her eyes. The back of the car only provided so much protection from the winter elements. Her muscles ached and she was constantly fighting a battle with her lungs. But being sick was the least of her worries.

The car door opened, letting in a rush of frigid air. She scrambled backwards, blindly grabbing at the driver's seat to pull herself up, her back hitting the other door.

"Don't be like that Annie," cooed a man, his fingers brushing against her shin.

Her heart plummeted at the sound of his voice. She felt the car dip under Isaac's weight as he climbed into the back seat beside her, the door shutting them inside the broken-down car.

"I just want to talk," he assured, resting his hand on her knee. "You aren't still mad about yesterday, are you?"

_Mad_ as if they had merely gotten into a lovers-spat over whose turn it was to do the dishes. _Mad_ like he hadn't taken her own knife and dragged the tip of the blade through her skin, then smeared the blood over her face like some sort of death mask.

"Take it off," he ordered, his voice deceptively gentle. "So, I can see you."

Anna hastily lowered the blindfold, her hands trembling as she clutched the fabric hanging loose around her neck. She forced her eyes to stay open as he brushed his thumb along the lower edge of the fresh gash running from her right temple to the top of her cheekbone.

"I hope you understand why I had to," Isaac sighed. "You do understand, right?

"Yes."

"Tell me why."

"I wouldn't listen."

"That's right. But you will listen from now on, won't you?"

"Yes."

She sucked in a breath, flinching as he grabbed her chin. Hot tears escaped down her cheeks. She let out a shuddering exhale—she could see it in the air between them.

Isaac was a beautiful man. His jaw was perfectly chiseled underneath his stubble and freckles spattered across his sculpted nose. His bright hazel eyes were mesmerizing. He looked like something out of an airbrushed magazine.

"That's a good girl," he grinned. "And you know what good girls get?"

Anna tensed as he reached into his pocket.

"They get rewarded." He held out his hand, his smile widening. "Give me your hand."

She held up her left hand, visibly shaking as she waited, staring at his face. Anna didn't think she'd ever forget it.

Cold metal wrapped around her wrist and she looked down to see Isaac adjusting the silver bracelet so that she could see the engraved plate.

_May you live all the days of your life. – Jonathan Swift_

Anna's chest constricted at the sight of it. It had been thirty-seven days since he'd taken it from her.

"Well?" Isaac asked. "What do we say?"

Anna licked her cracked lips, prepared to let the lie roll off of her tongue.

"Th—"

"Isaac!"

Isaac groaned and shoved the door open. "I'll be right back." He shut the car door behind him.

Anna turned in her seat to look out the back window and saw a group of five armed soldiers standing at the edge of camp. Isaac and the soldier at the front of the group began speaking back and forth, their voices a mere mumble through the windows. Isaac had several of his own men around him—enough to outnumber the strangers, but not enough to give away just how many people he had on his side. There were more in the surrounding woods.

She watched as people on both sides casually hefted their weapons. She imagined screaming for help, imagined throwing the car door open and running towards the soldiers. But instead, she rested her head on the back of the seat. All she could bring herself to hope for was a few more minutes alone.

Anna closed her eyes and took a strained inhale of cold air. She was just so tired.

_POP!_

She jumped at the rifle fire, and instinctively threw herself to the floor and covered her head. She heard glass break and shouting as bullets flew back and forth.

The car shook as someone fell against it, and then the door was flung open. She looked up to see a young man, panic on his face. He was the man who brought her food the past 37 days.

"Come on!" He hissed, holding out his hand for her. "Come on!"

Anna didn't move. The man looked over his shoulder before reaching into the car and yanking her from the floor. She struggled to get her feet under herself, and tried to pull her arm from his grip. She looked around the camp and saw the scramble for safety as the soldiers and her captors fired on each other.

And then she saw him. Isaac was sprawled out on the ground, the side of his jacket blooming with blood. He lay still, and she couldn't see steam rising from his lips.

"Come on!" The man snapped, pulling her behind him as they ran into the woods.

Their boots crunched over the dead leaves and branches as they ran between the trees, the gunfire fading in the distance until it stopped altogether. Anna's entire body protested against the effort until she finally collapsed to the ground.

"Get up!" The man ordered, pulling her to her feet.

"I can't—" she gasped. "I can't—breathe," she choked out, her chest and throat tightening.

He quickly reached into his pocket, fumbling inside until he pulled out a blue inhaler and pushed it into her hands.

Anna wasted no time in bringing it to her lips, pushing down on it twice, and holding her breath, feeling the medicine settle into her lungs before she exhaled. She took several slow breaths, waiting for her airways to open up as much as they could.

"Why?" She croaked, narrowing her eyes at the man.

She'd only seen him when he brought her food and she never learned his name. But now he was making a run for it—with her.

He shook his head, "We need to keep moving—there's a neighborhood not too far from here."

He started walking, this time not bothering to drag Anna behind him. Reluctantly, she followed him, tucking the inhaler into her pocket.

As they walked, she noticed the way he struggled to keep upright, pushing himself up against trees every once in a while. In the distance, she could see rooftops past the dead trees. Finally, he stopped and leaned against a tree.

"Just need a second," he said.

"Why?" Anna asked again.

"Why what?" He huffed, scanning the direction they'd come. "Why do I need to rest? Or why did I come back for you?"

Anna said nothing as she looked at her feet where a jagged rock rested, roughly a little bigger than her hand.

"I had to. I couldn't just leave you behind," he said.

"Why?" Anna asked once more, looking back at him. His eyes were closed.

"They would have killed you. Those soldiers—" he took a shuddering breath and shook his head. His face was drained of color and he could barely keep his eyes open.

Anna knelt down and took the rock in her hands, feeling the jagged edges against her skin. The stone was cool to the touch and she couldn't help but stare in amazement at it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd touched a piece of the Earth.

"Can you take a look at this?" The young man asked.

She looked to him as he pulled up his jacket and shirt to reveal a bullet hole in his side.

"Shit," he hissed, letting himself slide to the ground.

Anna approached and crouched in front of him. He was the same age as her brother—if he was still alive. She looked to the bullet wound, then to his face.

"Why?" She asked, her voice quiet. He looked to her, confused.

"I—"

"Why didn't you stop them?"

He stared at her for a moment before closing his eyes and leaning his head against the tree. His lip began to tremble.

"I couldn't," he whispered. "I couldn't. They—" he let out a sob. "They would have killed me. But—" He took a deep breath. "I helped you. I saved you. You're alive. That's got to count for some—"

Anna slammed the rock into the center of his face, cutting him off. Blood spurted out of his nose. She pulled back and slammed it into his face again, the back of his head cracking against the tree. He grabbed at her wrist before falling over.

She didn't let up, yanking her wrist from his grasp and clutching the rock with both hands as she brought it down on him over and over again. Blindly, he tried to push her away from him and crawl back, but she sat on him, pressing her knee into his stomach and continuing her flurry of blows.

Finally, he fell limp, and she dropped the rock one last time against his forehead. Panting and aching, she stared at his bloodied face.

"It doesn't count for shit," she hissed.

A snarl from the left called her attention as a small crowd of the undead shambled through the trees. She got to her feet and backed away. There were too many for her to handle in her weakened state. All she could do was run.

Anna Wycoff was perhaps the last person anyone would think to find in the middle of Georgia on a crisp winter day, running down the street of an abandoned neighborhood that resembled what was probably once a delightful place to live. But there she was, forcing her way into a two-story, cookie-cutter house with a herd of the undead following the scent of her icy sweat and the sounds of her thumping heart and huffing breaths.


	2. Chapter One

Daryl opened his eyes to light filtering through the grey curtains and the bed beside him empty. He reached out, resting his hand in the space Anna was supposed to be. The sheets were cool, indicating that she had been up for a while. He wondered if it was just habit now.

He sat up and pressed his bare feet into the carpeted floor, stretching his back, shivering as a cool breeze came through the window and brushed against his skin. Standing and rubbing at his eyes, Daryl walked into the end suite bathroom, flicking the light on. He looked at his reflection, inspecting the scratch marks on his shoulders.

Smirking to himself, Daryl gathered his dirty clothes to head back to Carol's for a fresh set when he noticed a stack of folded clothes on the bathroom counter, along with his toothbrush. He shook his head, dropping his dirty laundry into the nearby hamper after fishing out the photo of Anna from his pocket.

He dressed in the clean clothes and tucked the photo into his breast pocket before donning his vest and brushing his teeth. Daryl couldn't help but smile at the memory of last night—Anna's soft skin under his fingertips and her lips against his.

Stopping himself from going any further in the memory, Daryl turned the light out and went back into the bedroom, finding his boots and putting them on. With a final look around the room, Daryl stepped out into the hallway and shut the door.

He made his way to the kitchen where he found Jessie standing at the island, hunched over a bowl of dry cereal.

"Morning," Jessie said between bites. "Sleep well?"

Daryl cleared his throat and nodded. Jessie took another bite of his cereal.

"You want some?" He asked, pointing down at the Corn Flakes.

"Nah, I'm good," Daryl said. "Where's Anna?"

"She's working. Hallway, first door on the left."

"Thanks," Daryl said.

"I guess I'd rather have you around than Spencer," Jessie muttered as Daryl started towards the office. "Guy is annoying." Daryl stopped in his tracks.

"He's been around here more, huh?" He asked, his voice low.

"Yeah, you'd think after she yelled at him for kissing her, he'd take a hint, but then he grabs her. Damn idiot, am I right?"

"What?" Daryl's hands tightened into fists as he turned back to face Jessie.

"You know, at the party—" realization dawned on the younger man's face and he paled. "She didn't tell you. Shit."

"No," Daryl ground out, "she didn't."

* * *

With a heavy sigh, Anna threw her pen onto the desk before rubbing at her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. She dropped her hands away from her face and folded her arms over her chest.

She stared at the two files laying open in front of her. She had spent the better part of the morning detailing the death of Reg and Pete's subsequent execution. Everything had happened so quickly she hadn't had any time to process it. But now that she was alone with her thoughts Anna couldn't help but think that maybe there was something – anything – she could have done to save Reg.

That familiar feeling of guilt wrapped around her, filling her head with water, hissing in her ear. There was a tingle in the skin on her thigh and she felt her fingers twitch.

_Your fault_.

Anna shook her head, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes and groaning.

_It wasn't my fault_, she insisted.

She reminded herself that there had been limited options; Pete was bigger and stronger than her and had a _sword_; there wasn't anything she could have feasibly done.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Anna sighed, shutting Pete and Reg's files, deciding she had nothing left to write in them.

The door slowly swung open to reveal Daryl. Anna smiled at him as he walked inside and started scanning the shelves of books, picking out one and reading the first couple of pages before replacing it.

Anna watched him, her eyes trailing down to his bare shoulders where she saw red scratch marks. A blush rose to her cheeks as she thought about the end of their night, his calloused hands roaming over her skin, making her shiver even now. She had every intention of having an encore.

"What're ya workin' on?" Daryl asked, finally turning away from the books and plopping himself down in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Anna pursed her lips and unconsciously shifted the files around.

"I was working on Pete and Reg's files," she said, glancing over to the little end table to her right, where a computer lay open.

Deanna had given it to her to store the audio files of the interviews on. It was how she had been able to make the CD of Aiden's interview for the Monroes. She didn't think she'd have to make another one for them so soon.

"Should just throw out Pete's," Daryl huffed. "Rick told me 'bout him. Nice guy."

"I thought about burning it," Anna nodded.

"Why don't you?"

"Because however shitty he was, there's someone who still loves him," she said.

"Who?" Daryl snorted.

"His eldest son," Anna said. "Ron – I imagine he's not holding up so well after last night."

Daryl was quiet for a long time, a dark look crossing his face that Anna grew very concerned about. She wondered what he was thinking.

"Jessie told me about Spencer," Daryl finally said, turning the conversation in a completely different direction.

Anna tensed.

"What did he tell you?"

"'Bout the party," Daryl clarified. "Were you gonna tell me?" He asked, his voice calm.

"Yes," Anna said simply. "He kissed me at the party, I told him not to do it again and left. He came by the next day to apologize, I interviewed him, asked him to leave, and he grabbed me," she said, her voice monotone, feeling it was better to make it as matter-of-fact as possible.

Daryl stiffened.

"I twisted his arm. He left after that," she assured, watching as he slowly relaxed. "After you left, after his brother died, he came by the house wanting to drink. He tried to kiss me again and I rejected him again and sent him home." Anna decided Daryl didn't need to know about the botched hunting trip.

Daryl tapped the arm of the chair and sucked on his teeth, clearly agitated as he stared at the top of the desk.

"I'm going by the Monroe house later to give them a CD of Reg's interview."

Daryl's eyes darted to her face.

"No."

"I'm not asking permission," she said firmly. "Nothing is going to happen – I won't allow anything to happen."

Anna stood from her chair and walked around the desk to stand in front of Daryl. She reached out and ran her hands through his hair. He looked up at her, his hands finding their way to her hips, pulling her to him.

"He tries anything this time, you break his nose," Daryl instructed.

"Yes, sir," Anna laughed, leaning down and kissing him.

* * *

Daryl knelt in front of his bike, performing some routine maintenance on it in the driveway of Anna and Jessie's house. Of course, now that his toothbrush was nestled in the holder on the bathroom counter, he supposed it was his house and driveway too.

He saw movement in his peripheral, and looked over his bike to see Rick walking up the driveway, his face and hand bandaged.

"So, is he okay with it?" Daryl asked, referring to Morgan, who was currently in holding in an unfinished house.

"It was pretty much his idea," Rick said. "He gets it."

"It's got a bed and a bath, but it's still a cage, you know?" Daryl sighed, adjusting a tie.

"He gets it," Rick repeated. "He told me what happened out there with the trucks."

"He tell you about those guys he met? The _W_s?" Daryl asked.

"Like that walker we saw, yeah," Rick nodded. "We need more watch points. And I'm gonna tell Deanna we don't need to go lookin' for people anymore."

Daryl stood, squinting at Rick before wiping his hands on his jeans and turning away.

"You feel different about it?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, I do," Daryl said, looking back to him.

"Well, people out there… they got to take care of themselves, just like us," Rick explained. "I'm gonna get him out. Shouldn't leave him in there any longer than we have to," he said, turning to head back down the driveway before pausing and looking back. "How you settling in here?" He asked, gesturing to the little blue house.

"Good," he said, nodding.

"Good," Rick grinned. "I don't think anyone was comfortable with you and Anna not bein' together…, except maybe Jessie."

Daryl huffed as Rick laughed.

"He'll warm up to you," Rick assured as he walked off.

Daryl shook his head and went back to working on his bike.

* * *

Anna stood at the front door of the Monroe house and knocked three times before taking a step back, a plastic CD case in hand as she waited for someone to answer the door. After a few seconds, Spencer peered through the window before pulling the door open.

"Anna?"

"Hey."

"Come in," Spencer said, stepping to the side.

Anna shook her head.

"No, I'm alright. I just wanted to stop by and give you and your mom this," she said, holding out the CD.

Spencer looked between Anna and the CD before taking it.

"It's your dad's interview. I thought you might want it," Anna explained, shifting uncomfortably as he stared down at it.

"Like you did for Aiden," Spencer said quietly.

"Yeah."

"Thank you," he said, barely audible. "Are you, uh—" he cleared his throat. "Are you sure you don't want to come in?"

"I'm sure. You need to be with your mom," she said, turning to head down the stairs.

"Anna," he called and she paused at the last step to look at him. "Things don't have to be complicated."

"It's not complicated," she stated firmly, turning on her heel and heading off, leaving no room for further discussion.

She made her way down the street, pulling her light jacket closer to her body – it was starting to get cooler out. Anna had spent time in the north; she knew how cold it could get, and she worried about Judith and everyone else who had never spent a winter outside of Georgia. She was just thankful they had some time to prepare.

Eventually, Anna found herself at the tower. Deciding she had nothing better to do, she headed inside and up the stairs until she came to the perch where she found Glenn. rifle in hand as he scanned the perimeter.

"Hey," Glenn greeted and she saw his face.

"What happened to your face?" Anna blurted.

Glenn sighed. "Nicholas."

"Explain," Anna ordered, crossing her arms over her chest.

"He lured me out into the woods and tried to kill me. Look, he was scared—"

Anna held up a hand to stop him.

"Why is he still here?" She asked, her voice dangerously low.

"I couldn't just leave him out there – he'd die," Glenn insisted. "He knows what he did, and he's going to make up for it – all of it."

"He got Noah killed because he was scared – he may not have intended for it to happen, but it happened, and I didn't say anything. But he _actively_tried to kill you Glenn," Anna hissed. "Because he was scared? What else is he going to do because he's _scared_?"

"He's gonna do better. I'll make sure of it," Glenn assured, his face set.

Anna clenched her jaw and looked out over the trees, spotting a walker stumbling towards the gate. It was quiet for a long moment as Anna weighed the many variables and possibilities for leaving Nicholas alive. She knew Glenn had done the same.

With a heavy sigh, Anna nodded.

"Alright," she said, looking back to Glenn. "He's your responsibility."

"I know," Glenn nodded.

The two looked back to the perimeter, the tension slowly dissolving into nothing, and they stood in a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Anna couldn't help but let her mind wander back to her night with Daryl, and she suddenly had the desire to share the development with Glenn.

She opened her mouth to do as much when Glenn spoke first, his words sending ice through her veins.

"Maggie's pregnant."

Anna's brows shot up and she stared in awe at her best friend.

"Are you—" she swallowed. "Are you sure?"

Glenn nodded.

"But—_why_?"

"It's time. We're safe here," Glenn said. "We can build something here."

Anna looked away from him then, furrowing her brow. He was right. She knew he was right, but she was scared.

"Are you ready to be a dad?"

"Is anyone really ready for that?" Glenn laughed. "I don't know if I'm ready," he went on. "But I'm excited."

* * *

"My team – we saw it early on when we were on one of those first scouts," Heath said, addressing the room of Alexandrians. "Finding out what was around here. There was a camp at the bottom. The people, they must have blocked the exits with one of those trucks back when everything started to go bad. They didn't make it. They were all roamers. Maybe a dozen of them."

"No one's been back since?" Maggie asked.

"D.C., every town worth scavenging are all in the other direction," he said, shaking his head. "And I never really felt like having a picnic next to the camp that ate itself."

"So, all the while the walkers have been drawn by the sound and they're making more sound and drawing more in," Michonne inferred.

"And here we are," Rick said.

Anna stood beside Daryl –who seated himself on the windowsill—her hip brushing against his shoulder, taking comfort in his presence. She glanced at Maggie, at her stomach, and shifted on her feet.

"Now what I'm proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits," Rick said, loud enough to be heard around the room. "One of the trucks keepin' the walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them east. All of them."

"Right at us," Anna muttered.

"This isn't about _if_ it gives," Rick continued, nodding to her, "it's _when_. It's gonna happen. That's why we have to do this soon."

"This is—" Carol stammered. "I don't even have another word for it. This is terrifying. All of it. But it doesn't sound like there's any other way."

"Maybe there is," a man named Carter piped up, calling everyone's attention. "I mean, couldn't we just build up the weak spots? I could draw up plans. I worked on the wall with Reg. Construction crew—we can try and make it safe."

"We can't just pretend they aren't there and hope they magically go away," Anna huffed.

"Even if we could, the sound of those walkers is drawing more and more every day. Building up the exits won't change that," Rick agreed.

"We're gonna do what Rick says, the plan he's laid out," Deanna said, breaking her silence as she stared out the window.

"I told you all, we're gonna have Daryl leadin' them away," Rick said, repeating his plan from earlier.

"Me too," Sasha called, looking from Rick to Anna, nodding to her. "I'll take a car, ride next to him." She looked back to Rick. "Can't just be him. I'll keep 'em coming, Daryl keeps 'em from gettin' sloppy."

"I'll go with her," Abraham declared. "It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo."

"We'll have two teams," Rick said after nodding to Abraham and Sasha. "One on each side of the forest helping manage this thing. We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Jessie, Spencer, and Holly. So, they're out. So, who's in?" Rick asked.

"Me," Anna and Michonne said simultaneously.

She felt Daryl bump her hip lightly with his shoulder and she looked back at him.

"You should stay," he said quietly.

"As much as you should," she countered. "I can't sit here and wait for you. I need to be out there, too."

"I'm in," Glenn said, calling Anna back to the group.

"I'd like to help as well," Gabriel said, stepping up.

"No," Rick said immediately. "Who else? We need more."

"There's got to be another play," Carter insisted. "We can't just control that many."

"I said it before, walkers' herd up. They'll follow a path if something's drawing them. That's how we can get 'em all at once," Rick assured.

"So, what? We're supposed to just take your word for it?" Carter demanded. "We're all supposed to just fall in line behind you after—" he cut himself off.

"After _what_?" Rick sneered.

"After you wave a gun around screaming, pointing it at people. After you shoot a man in the face. After you—"

"Enough!" Deanna snapped, turning to Carter, who wilted under her gaze.

"I'll do it," Heath said, pulling the attention to him.

"Me, too," said the woman beside him.

"Whatever you need, I'm in," Tobin stated firmly.

"Now who else?" Deanna asked.

Anna caught Glenn's expression and followed his gaze to Nicholas. The man looked between the two of them, seeming frightened and unsure of what to do. Like a scared child.

"I'll go," he finally said, raising his hand. Anna ground her teeth. "We have to do this. I need to help."

"You sure you can handle it?" Rick asked.

"You need people," Nicholas said, lowering his hand.

Rick nodded.

"We'll make this work," he said. "We'll keep this place safe. Keep our families safe. We will."

"The plan," Carter said. "Go through it again."

"Man, he just said it," Daryl griped.

"Every part," Carter hissed, shooting a glare at Daryl before turning back to Rick. "The exact plan."


	3. Chapter Two

"Marshall and Redding," Rick said, pointing out the crossroads. "We force them west here."

Anna stood at the table, studying the map with her arms crossed over her chest. She chewed on her cheek, considering all the possible ways it could go wrong. The fact was, though, that she didn't know the terrain, the road conditions, if there were more walkers. They were blind.

"How?" Deanna asked.

"We block it off so they can only go one way, west, away from the community," Rick explained.

"Block it off with what?" Carter asked, his eyes darting back and forth from the map to Rick.

"Cars," Rick said simply. "We'll use the RVs, some of the bigger trucks, park them end to end."

"We'll be drawing them away," Michonne assured. "They're gonna keep moving."

"Yeah, but that many?" Carter asked. "Just bouncing off some sedans? And then when they start slipping through and the ones that walk away start distracting the rest and you stop drawing them away?"

"Man's got a point," Heath said.

"You said you helped build the walls? We could build more," Anna suggested, pursing her lips as she imagined a wall along the road.

"We got plates. The big-ass metal ones from the construction site," Eugene said from beside Anna, nodding as he stepped closer to the table. "We can use 'em to fortify the whip wall. It'd help disperse the force of impact and direct the walkers clean. Like a pool table. Eight ball, corner pocket."

"That's an army out there," Carter snapped. "And what happens when this doesn't hold? And they push on through?"

Anna rolled her eyes, quickly growing tired of Carter's constant naysaying.

"The curve in this hillside is gonna send them right back east. Right back here. You seriously want to risk that?" He demanded.

"I hear you pointing out problems without offering solutions that go beyond ignoring everything," Anna sneered, not tearing her eyes from the map.

"No, I do not want to risk that," Rick said, turning to Carter. "So, you need to help us make it hold."

"These walls," Morgan said, stepping forward and leaning on his stick. "You built them. So, you've already done the impossible."

"Carter," Deanna implored. "Please."

* * *

Jessie, Anna, and Daryl sat around the table, digging into some baked mac'n'cheese Anna had made from her grandmother's recipe. The only sound between them was that of their forks scraping and clicking against their plates.

"I should be going out there, not you," Jessie said, breaking the silence.

"Rick wants capable people watching over the town," Anna said between bites.

"You're plenty capable of protecting Alexandria," Jessie huffed.

"You just don't want me going out there," Anna said, taking a sip of her water.

"It's dangerous," Jessie insisted. "You agree with me, don't you?" He asked, looking to Daryl.

"Ain't ever stopped her before," Daryl grumbled.

"You're no help," Jessie pouted.

"Nothing you say is going to change what's happening," Anna said firmly. "I'm going out there, you're staying here and watching over Alexandria."

"I'm going to talk to Rick, see if he'll switch us," Jessie insisted, finishing off his food.

"You can try," Anna relented, exhausted with the back and forth.

With nothing left on her plate, Anna drank the last of her water and stood, collecting everyone's empty dishes and heading for the sink. She heard Jessie get to his feet and head for the door.

"I'll be back," he called, and he was gone.

Daryl quietly joined her at the sink and the two set to work washing the dishes, Anna scrubbing them clean and Daryl drying and putting them away.

"I think you should stay back," Daryl said.

"I know," Anna said softly. "But unless Rick changes his mind, I'm going."

"Do you want to go?"

"Of course, I do," Anna said, pausing in her washing. "Historian is good and all, but it's not the same as being out there, actively doing something. I need—" she sighed and resumed washing. "I need to feel useful again."

* * *

The scratch of a pen and the soft hum of the Red Hot Chili Peppers trickling out from her earbuds were the only sounds in the office as Anna worked at a steady pace. She filled up a few pages detailing the meeting and plans to deal with the quarry walkers. She was confident in their abilities and certain they'd be able to handle the situation.

"Hey."

Anna looked up to see Jessie standing in the door way.

"Can we talk?" He asked.

Anna paused her music and set her pen to the side to give him her full attention as he sat down on one of the arm chairs.

"You're not going to convince me to change my mind," Anna said, leaning back in her seat.

"That's not why I'm here—though I'm not giving up on that," Jessie assured.

"Okay," Anna said, cocking a brow.

"How have you been feeling?" He asked a little awkwardly, but he didn't break eye contact with her.

"I've been good," Anna said, more than a little confused by the question.

"I was just wondering after, ya' know—" he waved his hand in the air. "Everything with Reg and Pete, I just thought—if you needed to talk."

"I'm okay," Anna said before he could continue rambling. "What happened with Reg and Pete—" she sighed. "It was a lot."

"You haven't…," he pursed his lips, seeming to be choosing his words carefully. "We've been here before. You'd think it'd get easier."

"I'm not sure it ever should," Anna said, adjusting her seating. "But no, I haven't hurt myself." Her skin tingled and her fingers twitched. "I promise."

* * *

Anna straightened with a groan, listening to the rapid pops of her spine and shoulders as she rolled her neck to work the ache out. Construction on the wall had started the day after plans were drawn up. Abraham took a crew to gather the panels and beams while the rest started plotting out the trajectory and setting up the cars. It was hard work with the sun beating down on them, but the cool breeze gave them just enough reprieve.

Tossing down the garden shovel, Anna made her way over to one of the trucks to take a breather. She grabbed the water bottle she had stored under the steering wheel and sipped at it, watching as Daryl pushed a wheel barrel of dirt over to Rick.

"Hello."

Anna turned to see Morgan approaching, a shovel in hand. He stopped beside her and leaned against it.

"Morgan, right?" She asked, capping her bottle.

"That's right. And you're Anna – Rick told me about you," he said, grinning.

"Did he?" She asked, shaking her head. "I never did thank you for saving Daryl and Aaron," she said, tilting her head toward him. "So, thank you."

"All life is precious, Anna," Morgan said as Carol approached with a tray of glasses.

"Here you go," Carol said in her squeaky voice, with an unassuming smile on her face as she handed a glass to Morgan.

"Oh, thank you," he said, accepting her offering.

Carol went to offer Anna a glass, but Anna simply showed the woman her water bottle and squeezed past the two.

"Back to work," Anna said over her shoulder.

"Hey," Jessie called, jogging to catch up to her.

"What's up?" Anna asked as the two walked together.

"I talked to Rick," he said.

"And?"

"He wouldn't budge. Said it was your choice," Jessie grumbled.

Anna pulled them to a stop and faced him.

"Jessie," she said as calmly as she could. "I can handle myself. You promised to treat me accordingly. Don't go back on that promise."

"I just have a bad feeling about this whole thing," Jessie admitted. "Like something is going to go wrong."

"Everything has been going smoothly so far. We just have to keep the momentum," Anna insisted. "This is going to work."

"Alright," Jessie said, his jaw ticking. "Alright."

* * *

Construction on the wall continued into the next day. After setting up the cars and gathering the panels and beams, they started setting up the wall along the road. A few people, including Anna, took up guard duty over the workers, watching for walkers and other threats.

"Hey," Daryl greeted as he stepped up beside her, his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

"Hey."

They stood together, peering into the trees in silence until Anna's eyes were drawn to the workers.

"I almost feel bad that I'm not doing any hard labor," Anna said, watching as one woman dug a hole for one of the beams.

"Someone's gotta be on watch," Daryl assured. "Ain't like they can protect themselves."

"They need to learn to – soon," she said, pursing her lips. "Maybe…" she trailed off.

"What?"

"Maybe we could have training sessions with them? Show them how to defend themselves," Anna finished.

"Who's gonna teach 'em?" Daryl asked, cocking a brow at her.

"I could," Anna shrugged. "Maybe Abraham or Rosita, too."

"Talk to Rick about it," Daryl shrugged. "It's a good idea."

"Thanks—I come up with those every once in a while," Anna chuckled.

A twig snapped and Anna raised her knife while Daryl readied his crossbow. Their eyes darted through the trees until they landed on a small gaggle of walkers approaching, attracted by the noise of construction.

"Stop," Rick said, calling everyone to hold still. "Carter, heads up," he said.

The workers stopped and looked up to see the walkers, some dropping their tools and backing away, others paralyzed with fear.

Carter lifted a rifle, his face pale as the walkers filtered out of the trees.

"Use your shovels," Rick ordered. "The guns will draw more."

Anna shot an incredulous look at Rick before focusing back on the walkers, her body tense and ready to strike.

"Help us," Carter pleaded, setting the rifle down.

"You can do this. You need to, all of you," Rick insisted.

"Rick," Anna snapped.

A walker came upon one of the younger workers who kicked it back and fell to the ground. The crew frantically looked between the walkers and the people who had been assigned to protect them.

"They can do this," Rick said.

Anna felt anger boiling in her stomach and stepped forward.

"Morgan, don't!" Rick called.

Morgan rushed forward with his stick and slammed it up against the nearest walkers' head, incapacitating it before driving the stick through its skull. With that, Anna, Daryl and Michonne sprang into action, dispatching the rest of the walkers with ease.

With the threat out of the way, Anna wiped off her blade and turned to Rick, her eyes narrowed.

"You said you don't take chances anymore," Morgan said, his voice heavy with anger as he and Rick stared at each other.

* * *

"We can't just throw them in like that – that's how people die," Anna hissed, walking beside Rick and Morgan towards the pantry.

"_We_ were just thrown in, now look at us," Rick countered.

"I would have died if it hadn't been for Evan and Anderson," Anna continued. "I can take care of myself now because of them and Fort Benning. I had to be _taught_."

"You were strong,"

"No," Anna insisted, shaking her head. "I needed to be saved and I got people killed."

"Anderson wasn't your fault," Daryl said as he joined them.

"All I'm suggesting," Anna said, going on, "is that we train them first. Show them how to defend themselves and the people around them."

"We do need to teach them," Morgan agreed.

"I can teach them, maybe get some help from Abraham or Rosita," Anna suggested.

"If they're up for it," Rick said, nodding.  
As they neared the pantry, a crash and the sound of glass breaking interrupted their conversation. The four rushed forward and Rick threw the door open. Anna tensed at the sight of Carter holding a gun to the head of Eugene who coward on the floor.

"What the hell is going on?" Rick demanded, his tone low and threatening. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking this place back from you," Carter said, a quiver in his voice.

"That's what you were talkin' about in here?" Rick asked, looking to the others gathered in the pantry.

"That's what _he_ was talking about," Spencer said quickly, nodding towards Carter before his eyes landed on Anna.

Rick stepped forward slowly.

"See, I would have—I would have set up some lookouts. That would have been the smart thing. You know, if I happened to—" in the midst of his sentence, Rick snatched the gun from Carter's hand and cocked it, shoving Carter to his knees and leveling the barrel against his head. "You really think you're gonna take this community from us? From Glenn? From Michonne? From Daryl and Anna? From _me_? Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

"It was just me," Carter whispered.

"What?"

"It was—it was just me," he repeated, louder. "Just—just kill me."

"Rick," Daryl called.

Anna took a step forward.

"I'm good," Rick finally said, pulling the gun away from Carter and handing it to Daryl. "I'm good. You can try to work with us," he said, looking to Carter still on the floor. "You can try to survive. Would you do that?"

Anna helped Eugene to his feet as Carter nodded.

* * *

Anna sat in the arm chair in the corner of the bedroom, _The Hobbit_ in her lap and an earbud in listening to her iPod on shuffle. It felt good having music in her life again, it eased the knot formed in her chest – anxious for the next day. Construction on the wall had been completed and now all that was left to do was a dry run of the plan to make sure everyone knew what to do.

The bathroom door opened and Daryl walked out, toweling out his hair, wearing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Anna shut her book, took out her earbud and watched him hang the towel on a hook mounted to the door.

"You ready for tomorrow?" Anna asked, setting her book aside.

He hummed the affirmative and sat down on the bed, his back to her. Pursing her lips, Anna quickly pushed herself out of the chair and crawled over the bed until she was directly behind him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, her body flush against his.

"Any particular reason you're actin' like a koala?" He asked, a teasing note to his voice as he took hold of her hands.

"Nope," she said, kissing his shoulder blade. "I have a question, though," she said, a sudden thought coming to her.

"What?"

"Can you teach me to ride a motorcycle?" She asked.

"I guess," he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. "How long you been wantin' to learn?"

"Since before, just haven't had anyone to teach me," she explained. "You smell nice by the way."

He chuckled and brought her hand up to his lips.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" He asked as he began to inspect her hand. "You've got a freckle here," he said, pressing his thumb against the spot on the back of her hand.

"I'm a bundle of anticipation," she laughed. "And yes, I do have a freckle there."

"You got a few on your back, too," he said. "Right here." He reached behind him and around her until his left hand found purchase on the left side of her lower back.

"I did not know that—why are you so interested in my freckles?" She asked, pulling away from him to lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.

Daryl quickly flipped over so that he hovered over her.

"'Cause," he said, leaning down and kissing her.

She brought her hands up to curl around the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his damp hair. Anna was more than happy to forget about the world; to pretend it was just the two of them. Tomorrow was a lifetime away.


	4. Chapter Three

Anna rode up to the quarry on the back of Daryl's bike after he showed her how to get it started. Rick took a group through the route, starting from the finish line and making his way back to the quarry to join them. Eventually, everyone was gathered at the lower entry point and Rick climbed atop the back of a truck.

"I know this sounds insane, but this is an insane world. We have to come for them before they come for us. It's that simple," he said over the din of walkers growling and snarling. "This is where it all starts tomorrow. Tobin gets in the truck, opens the exit, and we're off. He hops out, catches up with his team at red, staying on the west side of the road," he explained before gesturing at Daryl. "Daryl gets on his bike—"

A rumbling interrupted him, calling everyone's attention.

"You see that?" Sasha asked, pointing at the upper exit.

Metal groaned and the ledge broke off, tumbling to the ground, followed by the semi that had been blocking the way.

"It's open! We got to do this now," Rick shouted as everyone jumped into action. "We're doin' this now! Tobin's group, get movin', go!"

"Be safe," Anna said, stepping quickly to Daryl, grasping his hand.

He gave her hand a squeeze and nodded.

"You too," he said before they let go of each other and he climbed on his bike.

"Damn straight, we'll do it live," Abraham whooped, climbing into the beat-up car he and Sasha had driven down in.

"You meet Daryl at red," Rick reminded. "Let him take them through the gauntlet."

"Yeah, we meet at red," Sasha affirmed.

"Go!"

"Rick, I'll hit the tractor place," Glenn assured, turning to Heath.

"Okay, who else?" Rick called, gathering his team.

Anna stood beside Rick, ready to go when he said.

"Rick, this was supposed to be a _dry_ run," Carter said, terror in his voice.

"Daryl, get ready," Rick said, ignoring Carter.

"They're coming," Daryl warned.

"Rick, we haven't even gone through the whole plan," Carter pleaded.

"You want to go back, go back," Rick offered, his voice harsh. "We're finishing this. Tobin, you hit it on my signal. They're headin' for home. We don't have a choice. Get ready to hit the flares." Rick waited a beat. "Now! Tobin, hit the truck!"

The truck moved forward, just enough to let a couple of walkers out at a time. Anna braced her rifle against her shoulder but kept it aimed to the ground as she watched the walkers filter out at a steady pace.

_So much for a dry run._

* * *

Anna ran after Rick, Michonne and Morgan, trying to keep her breathing even as her chest constricted painfully. For a brief moment, she wondered if maybe Jessie and Daryl were right and she should have stayed at home. But she brushed that thought aside and kept running.

After a while they veered off the road into the woods until they made it to another road where they had parked the RV against part of the wall.

"Glenn, you there yet?" Rick asked into the walkie as they finally slowed their pace.

"—_Almost. We'll have it handled before they get here, —_" Glenn responded. "—_We'll meet you at yellow. —_"

"Copy that."

They stopped and Anna squinted at the three orange balloons floating above the RV, clasping her hands behind her head to open up her airways. Now all they had to do was wait.

"It'll hold," Rick assured.

"Well, that's good. You know, considering where we're standing," Michonne said.

"Michonne," Morgan called softly after a moment of silence.

"Yeah?"

"Back when you were in that place—where I lived—did you take one of my protein bars?" Morgan asked.

Anna furrowed her brow and looked to Michonne.

"No," Michonne said simply, and Anna knew that she had.

"See, I could have sworn there was one more peanut butter left," Morgan went on.

"That's how it is, isn't it?" Michonne shook her head. "You always think there's one more peanut butter left."

* * *

The time ticked by and Anna was getting anxious. She leaned against the RV, hiding in the shade as they waited for word from the others. Sighing, Anna looked around at her companions until her eyes landed on Morgan, resting on his stick.

"What's with the stick?" She asked, recalling two days ago and the way he had used it to take out the walkers with ease.

"A friend made it for me," Morgan shrugged. "Taught me how to use it."

"You don't carry a gun," Anna observed, remembering her time at the prison. "Why not?"

"Because all life is precious," he said. "I only need my stick."

Anna pursed her lips, wondering how he had survived for so long without compromising that philosophy. But there wasn't time to question him further as the sound of walkers approaching and the revving of an engine came from the other side of the wall.

"Flares," Rick said as Anna pushed off the RV and took the bright orange flare gun from her pocket.

The four got into position and aimed for the sky, shooting them off one by one towards the west.

Anna looked to the wall, listening to the sound of Daryl's bike engine, wondering if it would have been better if she had gone with him. Like Abraham had said – it was a long way to white knuckle it solo.

She walked up to the wall and pressed her hand against the metal. She jumped back when walkers began to slam against it in rapid succession. Grinding her teeth, Anna reloaded her flare gun, aimed, and fired. They had a job to do; there was no time to get distracted.

* * *

Glenn called over the walkie shortly after Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham passed, assuring them that the tractor store had been taken care of and they were headed to yellow. With the job at orange done, Anna and the others did the same, trekking through the woods along the road, keeping the herd in sight.

Rick gave a whistle as they neared, catching Glenn's attention as they approached. Anna fell into step beside her friend.

"How'd the tractor place go?" She asked, bumping his shoulder.

"A few hiccups, but we got it done," he said, bumping her back.

"As long as you're still standing," she said.

"Everyone," Rick called. "We need to finish this. We have to keep moving and fan out down that thing, front to back. Like we said, cops at a parade." He turned to Glenn. "You take the back. You got the other walkie."

"Got it."

"If it gets sloppy, we fire our weapons, pull them back on track," Rick explained.

"I'll hit the front," Carter assured, heading off, seeming far surer about the plan now that he saw it was working.

"Okay, one after the other," Rick said, following after Carter.

Anna nodded to Glenn before she jogged after Rick, along with Michonne and Morgan.

* * *

Keeping her eyes on the herd, Anna trailed after the others. She scanned the crowd for wanderers, trying to keep her mind on the task at hand, but she couldn't get what Morgan said out of her head.

_All life is precious_.

She glanced over to Morgan walking a few feet ahead of her.

"Hey—" Anna called, only to be cut off by screams of fear and agony.

Anna turned to the crowd, a chunk already breaking off from the group and heading for the screams.

"Shit," she hissed as she and Morgan took off after the screams.

She pulled out her knife, not wanting to draw any more attention to the left side as the sound of gunfire emitted from the other side of the herd. She and Morgan quickly dispatched any walkers that got in their way before finally reaching Rick, who was hovering over a bloodied, screaming Carter. Rick forced the man's head to the side and ran his knife through the back of his skull, silencing him.

Rick turned to Anna and Morgan, a grim expression on his face.

"—_It's working. The gunfire is bringing them back on the road, —_" Tobin said over the walkie.

The three looked up to see the walkers headed back for the herd. Anna saw movement in her peripheral and turned to see Michonne had joined them.

"You got 'em, Tobin," Rick replied.

"—_Copy that. What was that screaming? —_" Tobin asked.

"It was Carter," Rick sighed. "He got bit – right in the face. I stopped him."

There was no reply.

Rick got to his feet and clipped the walkie back to his belt before grabbing Carter's rifle from the ground.

"We have a good hour until we have 'em to green – when we hand 'em off to Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham," Rick said, looking to Morgan. "Why don't you and Anna head back, tell everyone what's happening? They should know."

"Okay, Rick, I just—" Morgan tried before Rick cut him off.

"Will you do that for me?" Rick asked.

Morgan nodded and turned to Anna.

"I'll take care of that one," Rick said, pointing over their shoulders. "Michonne, you take point."

Anna, Michonne, and Morgan stared at Carter's limp body on the forest floor. Anna considered how much effort it would take to carry him back to Alexandria, where he could be buried. But they didn't have time.

"I know it's how it is," Morgan started. "I do."

"Yeah," Michonne said. "I do, too."

"We'll come back for him," Anna said, more to herself than to anyone else.

* * *

"Do you blame him?" Anna asked Morgan as the two walked.

"Do you?" He countered.

Anna shot him an irritated look and shook her head.

"No," she replied. "We can't control everything that happens out here."

"We make plans. So, we do have _some_ control."

"So, you do blame him?" She asked.

"No," Morgan said. "We can't plan for everything. We don't know where every piece is going to be on this particular chess board."

She glanced sidelong at the man—he had survived this chess match so far with nothing but that stick. Had he really gotten this far without killing? Did they even have that option? Did she?

"You said we'd go back for Carter. Did you mean that?" Morgan asked after a moment.

"I did."

"Did you know him well?"

"Well enough," she shrugged. "I interviewed him once."

"You care about people," Morgan observed. "Even after they're gone."

Anna pursed her lips before opening her mouth to respond when a loud, jarring noise cut through the air.


	5. Chapter Four

Jessie pushed the tower door open to see Spencer leaned against the wall, the sniper resting in the corner. Spencer glanced over his shoulder. He turned back as Jessie shut the door.

"Anything?" He asked, walking across the small room to stand beside the taller man.

"Nope," Spencer huffed. "Been quiet."

"Good," Jessie said, nodding. "Guess you're good to go, man."

For a moment, it looked like Spencer was about to do so, but before he made it outside, he turned back to look at Jessie.

"Tell me something," Spencer started.

_Here we go,_ Jessie thought, rolling his eyes.

"Anna and that Dixon guy. Is that serious?"

Jessie picked up the sniper and checked it, bracing it to his shoulder and peering through the scope before lowering it.

"Look dude," he said, facing the other man, "she told you how things are. Accept it. Move on. Find someone else."

Spencer scrunched up his face.

"But why _him_?" He asked.

"I've been asking the same thing since I found out," Jessie admitted. "But I've seen them—you aren't going to get anywhere with her. So, the best thing for you to do is just… back off."

"But I—"

A scream ripped through the air, cutting Spencer off. The two turned and stared at the door, wondering if they had really heard anything. But then there was another scream, and Jessie shoved the rifle into Spencer's arms.

"Stay here, watch the perimeter for any threats. I'm going to see what's going on," he declared, tearing the door open.

"But—"

"Just do as I say!" Jessie snapped, and he shut the door behind him before rushing down the stairs and out of the watch tower.

He pulled his sidearm, thankful that Deanna had agreed to allow them to carry within the walls. Skirting the sides of houses, Jessie made his way towards the commotion until he came upon a body lying bloody and limp on the ground. He inspected the man, finding no bite marks—but a lot of stab wounds.

"Shit," he hissed, looking around him for any sign of the killer.

His attention was called away, however, with the sound of a loud and jarring horn erupting from the direction of the watchtower. He got to his feet, ready to head back and stop the noise when a shout came from behind him.

Jessie turned in time to find a dirty, burly man rushing him, bloody knife in hand.

"Shit."

* * *

Morgan and Anna raced through the trees, their only thought on Alexandria and that horn. Anna had to force herself to keep a steady speed and her breathing even despite the tightness in her chest and throat, causing her to fall behind Morgan a few paces, but she managed to keep him in sight as the sound grew louder and louder.

Finally, the watch tower came into view. It took all of her willpower not to push through the last stretch, Drill Sergeant's voice in her ear.

At the base of the tower was a cargo truck lodged into the side of the building.

Anna did a mental tally of who was supposed to be in the tower—_Jessie_—and panic rose in her chest. He would have taken out the horn. Something had to be wrong with him.

_What if he's hurt? Or Worse?_

Any semblance of control Anna had disappeared and she charged forward, jumping debris as she passed Morgan, nearly running face first into Spencer.

"Where's Jessie?" She demanded, out of breath and vaguely aware of Morgan cutting off the horn.

"There was screaming—he went to check it out," Spencer stammered.

"What happened?" Morgan asked.

"Someone—a group—they got inside the walls. They're killing people," Spencer said, his face pale.

"We need to get in there," Anna declared, taking a step forward before turning back to the men.

"You comin'?" Morgan asked, looking to Spencer.

Spencer gaped at them, hesitating.

"Hide," Morgan said simply, and jogged away.

Anna went to follow when Spencer grabbed her arm.

"Anna, wait—don't," he pleaded. "It's dangerous. They're killing people."

"That's exactly why I have to go," Anna snapped, tearing her arm free from his and heading off after Morgan.

Rounding the corner, she froze at the sight of a large man with an ax, a dismembered body at his feet as he faced Morgan. He rushed forward and Anna raised her rifle, ready to fire when Morgan stepped to the side, in her line of fire. The man stopped in his charge and paced.

"Quick… or slow?" He asked, twirling the ax in his hand.

"Leave. Please," Morgan said evenly, unfazed.

"Gonna be slow," the man said, rushing forward.

"Morgan!" Anna snapped, moving to aim when, from nowhere, a hooded figure appeared and ran a knife through the man's chest, dropping him to the ground.

The figure faced them before pulling the bandana away from their face, revealing Carol.

"I could have stopped him," Morgan insisted.

"The others back?" She asked as she crouched over the man.

"No," Anna answered, lowering her gun and walking forward.

"It's happenin' out there," Morgan explained.

"They're doing it _now_?" Carol asked, incredulous as she drew a _W _on her forehead with the man's blood.

"We had to," Anna said, keeping a lookout.

"These people don't have guns," Carol went on, taking the chains from around the man's waist.

"I could have stopped him," Morgan repeated.

"If they had guns, they'd be using them," Carol said, ignoring him.

"Did you hear me?" Morgan asked.

"We have to get to the armory before they do. If we keep moving, this might work," Carol breathed.

"You don't have to kill people," Morgan said, his face hard.

"Of course, we do," Carol sighed.

"Carol," Morgan snapped, calling her attention. "You don't like it."

Anna looked between the two before Carol turned away, putting the bandana back up.

"I'm gonna get to the armory and I need your help," she said as she stood.

"Morgan," Anna said. "If we can sneak past them, we don't have to kill anyone—we just need to make sure they can't get our guns."

After a tense moment, Morgan finally nodded.

"I only have enough chain for one of you," Carol said. "Anna, you go through the backyards in case my plan fails."

Anna nodded and without a second thought, headed off.

* * *

Anna scaled the third fence, dropping down into Mr. Sinclair's backyard. She adjusted the rifle on her shoulder and started for the other side of the yard, counting how many more fences she was going to have to jump when a thought occurred to her.

"Shit," she hissed, turning on her heel and running up Mr. Sinclair's back porch.

Quietly, she pushed the door open and crept through the house, moving her rifle so that it was in her hands and aimed at the ground.

"Mr. Sinclair?" She called softly, taking a step around the corner.

"AH!"

Anna jumped back, a frying pan swinging past her face. She raised her rifle to fend off her attacker when she finally got a good look at Mr. Sinclair's terrified face.

"It's me," she said quickly, lowering her rifle and holding out one hand.

Sinclair panted, dropping the frying pan to his side, a look of relief flooding his face.

"Where are the kids?" Anna asked, pushing past him to find five young children cowering behind the kitchen island.

"What's happening? Who are those people?" Sinclair asked, panic lacing his voice.

"I don't know," Anna said. "Does this house have a basement?" Sinclair nodded. "Okay, everyone we're going to the basement," she said, looking to the children.

Sinclair didn't say a word as he pulled open a door at the back of the kitchen and turned on a light, allowing the kids to file down the stairs. He and Anna followed after them, shutting the door gently behind them.

"Okay, we have to be really quiet for a little while," Anna instructed, gesturing for the kids to hide behind the stairs and crouch. "Do you know how to use this?" She asked, looking to Sinclair and holding out her rifle.

"No—yes—I used a similar one once, when I was a kid. My dad took me hunting. I hated it—"

"That's good enough. Here, hold it like this, keep your finger here until you're ready to fire—"

"You're leaving?" Sinclair choked.

"I have to secure the armory," Anna insisted.

"But—"

A shattering of glass came from above, followed by footsteps, and everyone tensed. One boy let out a soft whimper, but silenced himself.

Anna looked to Sinclair and the children, putting her finger to her lips as she backed away from them, rounding the stairs and carefully making her way up the steps. She pulled her knife from her hip as she reached the door and slowly turned the knob.

She scanned the kitchen for any sign of the intruder as she inched the door open before she squeezing through and shutting the door with a soft _click_. She took a few steps forward and paused, listening for movement. Whoever the intruder was, they hadn't noticed her yet as they rifled through Sinclair's living room.

Peering around the corner, she saw it was a woman with her back turned to the kitchen, bent over a bowl of candy. Anna moved forward, poising her knife to strike. As, she took another step, the wooden board beneath let out a loud groan.

The woman spun around with what looked like a kitchen knife in hand. She grinned at Anna, revealing a row of yellowed teeth. There was a _W _carved into her forehead.

The woman rushed forward with a wild cry. Anna dodged her swinging blade, striking out with her own only for the woman to jump back and throw her foot out into Anna's knee.

Anna collapsed to the ground, crying out in pain when the woman rammed her fist into the side of her face. Anna blindly swung her blade, but the woman simply grabbed her wrist and twisted it, forcing Anna to drop it.

"Let me save you," the woman hissed, rolling Anna onto her back.

The woman brought the blade down and Anna caught her arm, managing to hold the tip of the knife just a few inches away from her face. The woman let go of Anna's wrist to help force the blade down.

Anna took this opportunity to smash her fist against the woman's temple, knocking her off. Anna jumped up, scrambling for her knife.

"AH!"

Anna turned and swung, her blade lodging itself into the side of the woman's neck. The woman froze, gaping in horror at Anna as she collapsed to the ground, gurgling on her blood. She watched as the woman twitched, clawing at her neck until she finally fell still.

Anna's eyes fell to the knife in the woman's hands, fresh blood on the blade. A dull ache in her side called her attention, and she looked down to see a red spot spreading over her clothes, blood dripping onto the floor at her feet.

She grabbed her right side and staggered over to the basement door, pushing it open.

"Sinclair?" She called.

"Anna! Are you okay?"

"I'm alive. Listen, stay down there. Someone will come tell you when it's safe. I need to go to the armory," she said, leaning against the doorframe for support. "If any more of them come, don't hesitate. Protect the kids."

"I will," Sinclair said. "Be careful."

* * *

Breathing was difficult, and her vision was fading in and out, but Anna pushed on, bracing herself against walls as she made her way to the armory, clutching her side as she wearily kept an eye out for any more intruders.

She knew she was getting closer to the armory, she just needed to secure it. Then she'd see to the wound.

_Just keep going,_ she thought.

Tripping over her feet, Anna caught herself against the wall.

"Fuck," she groaned, feeling like her side was ripping apart as she slid down the wall to her knees.

Anna could just see the back door of the pantry. She was so close.

_"Don't you give up, Wycoff. You keep moving. You don't stop. Do not stop,"_ Drill Sergeant screamed in her ear.

She forced herself to her feet and took one step forward before she lost her balance and fell flat on the ground. Her vision blurred and all she could see was a dark shape running toward her.


	6. Chapter Five

"Rick," Daryl called into the walkie.

"—_I'm here. —_"

"What's goin' on back there?" He asked, keeping his bike at a steady pace.

"—_Half of them broke off. They're goin' toward Alexandria. —_"

"Shit," Daryl hissed.

"—_Towards you? —_" Abraham asked over the walkie.

"—_We ran ahead. There's a horn or somethin' loud, —_" Rick explained. "—_Comin' from the east. It's not stopping. —_"

"I'm gonna gas it up, turn back," Daryl declared.

"—_We have it. You keep going, —_" Rick assured.

"They're gonna need our help," Daryl insisted.

"—_Gotta keep the herd moving. —_"

"Not if it's going down, we don't."

"—_The rest of that herd turns around, the bad back there gets worse. —_"

Daryl knew Rick was right – he didn't like it and the thought of not doing anything made his stomach twist, but Rick was right.

"—_Daryl? —_" Rick called.

"Yeah, I heard ya," Daryl said.

About ten minutes ticked by with no updates from Rick. Daryl worried that something else had gone wrong with the plan. He revved his engine before falling back to ride alongside the rusted junker Sasha and Abraham rode in.

"Hey," he called through the open window. "We gone five miles out yet?"

"Give or take some yardage," Abraham responded. "You got a reason for askin'?"

"Next intersection, we're gonna spin around and go back," he explained.

"The plan is to go fifteen more," Sasha said from the driver's seat.

"Yeah, I'm gonna change that," Daryl said. "Five's gonna have to work."

"The magic number's twenty. That's the mission," Abraham insisted. "That's makin' sure they're off munching on infirm raccoons the rest of their undead lives instead of any of us."

"You want to go; we can't stop you. But without you, they could stop _us_," Sasha warned.

Daryl looked between her and the road in front of him. He knew she was right, but as he spotted a sign for Alexandria, all he could think of was the herd tearing through it, destroying everything he had found, everything he and Anna had begun to build. He didn't think he could take losing that. Not without a fight.

"Nah," he finally said. "I got faith in ya."

With that he pulled ahead, the roar of his engine drowning out everything else as he disappeared down the road.

* * *

"—_Daryl? —_" Rick's voice crackled over the walkie sometime later.

"I'm here."

"—_Won't be long now. They're almost here. I'll get them going your way again. —_"

"—_How 'bout that, Daryl? He's gonna be coming our way, —_" Sasha said.

"—_There's gunfire coming from back home. —_"Daryl's grip on the handlebars tightened as panic rose in his chest. "—_We gotta sit with it and hope they can handle it. I think they can. They have to. We keep going forward for them. Can't turn back 'cause we're afraid. —_"

"—_We ain't afraid, —_" Abraham said into the walkie.

"—_This is for them. Going back now before it's done, that'd be for us. The herd has to be almost here. —_"

Static came over the walkie and Daryl waited for someone to speak. Instead, he heard gunshots, and then silence.

"Rick?" Daryl called. No answer. "Rick?" He repeated. "Shit," he said, coming to a stop in the middle of the road.

He looked ahead of him at the distance between himself and Alexandria, and then looked behind him where he had left Sasha and Abraham and the rest of the herd. Daryl knew what he needed to do.

"Damn," he grumbled, turning his bike around, hitting the gas and racing back down the road; he'd gone a good distance, but it didn't take him long to meet up with Sasha and Abraham again.

* * *

"—_Alright_, —" Sasha said over the walkie.

"That's twenty?" Daryl asked as he navigated around a fallen branch.

"—_It will be, —_" Sasha responded. "—_We gotta put distance between us and them before the turnoff. —_"

"—_So, floor it, —_" Abraham cut in.

"Alright, try to keep up."

"—_Daryl, have you looked at this car? —_" Sasha asked with a chuckle. "—_Believe me, we want to get back there, too. —_"

Daryl nodded. They hadn't heard anything from Rick in a while, and he had no idea what was going on. All they could do was keep going and head back when their job was done. He just hoped Anna was safe.

Focusing on the road ahead, Daryl hit the gas and sped up, Sasha keeping pace just behind him as they made a left at the black sign reading_ 642_. This was it. They'd made it.

The path back to Alexandria led them straight through a town which, at a glance, seemed mostly empty. But they didn't stop to look around.

As they passed a department store, gunfire erupted from all sides, ricocheting off the car. Daryl ducked low and felt a sharp sting in his elbow, veering off the road into a gravel lot. His tires lost traction and his bike slipped out from under him.

Hearing a car approaching, Daryl jumped to his feet and pulled his bike up. He looked over his shoulder to see a maroon car barreling towards him. Climbing onto his bike, he sped away, his tires kicking up gravel behind him.

The gunfire continued as he made his way through the lot, heading for some large gray dumpsters and hoping he'd be able to lose them there. He came around one dumpster only to find a group of walkers shambling about. With no other choice, he rode through them towards a path leading into the woods on the other side. Behind him, he heard a crash, and the gunfire stopped.

Daryl glanced over his shoulder to see a green sedan following after him.

"Son of a bitch," he said aloud.

He willed his bike to go faster, cutting to the right as soon as he came upon another road. Without much thought, the moment Daryl lost sight of the sedan over a hill, he veered off the road into the woods, cutting the engine and ducking behind a cluster of bushes and trees.

Panting, he watched and listened as the sedan rushed past. When the sound faded, he started up his bike again and headed across the street down a trail through the woods.

There was blood running down the side of his face and black spots in his vision as he tried to keep an eye on his surroundings. The green trees soon gave way to a desolate scene; everything was gray and burned and smelled like ash.

Finally, unable to keep his balance on the bike, Daryl sputtered to a stop and collapsed onto the ground. He tried blinking away the black spots, his arm throbbing, a searing pain at his elbow.

There came a growl from beside him and he jumped, turning to face the sound only to find a burnt corpse laying there, its head covered by a partially melted motorcycle helmet. He fell back and groaned.

* * *

The bike felt heavier than normal as Daryl walked it through the woods – it was especially difficult guiding it down a steep incline, he and the bike both falling. He pulled himself to his feet and took out the walkie.

"Sasha? Abraham? You there?" He asked, only to hear static hissing on the other end.

He tucked the walkie into his pocket— then he heard the soft sound of dripping. Daryl looked down to see bright red spots forming on the charred skull at his feet, before looking at his hand covered in blood.

Taking off his glove, he tossed it to the side and worked off his jacket, grunting at the way his arm protested in pain. Twisting his arm around. Daryl could just see a bullet hole in his elbow and blood running down his arm. He pulled the rest of his jacket off and threw it to the ground, then went to his bike, unclasping his bag from the side of it.

Before he could even open his bag, however, there was a rustling and he froze, peering into the trees around him. He saw nothing, but that didn't ease his concerns. He slung his bag over his shoulder and pulled his crossbow off the back of his bike before pulling some brush over his bike to conceal it.

He kept his crossbow ready and started towards the rustling. Looking around, he deduced that there was only one place someone would hide in this decimated area, and that was behind the small cluster of trees.

Quickly, he rounded the trees and aimed his bow at two women, their hands raised in surrender.

"You found us, okay?" The taller brunette huffed. "Here we are. We earned what we took," she insisted.

Daryl furrowed his brow, confused, when a twig snapped behind him. He whirled around, only to meet a branch to the face—then everything went dark.


	7. Chapter Six

There was a steady, annoying beeping next to her ear. Blearily, Anna opened her eyes to a cream ceiling. She hissed at the searing pain in her side and grabbed at it.

"Hey, don't do that," came a familiar voice as her hand was pulled away.

Anna looked over to see Jessie sitting beside her, holding her hand.

"Glad to see you're awake," he grinned.

"How long was I out?"

"Most of the day. It's over now," Jessie said.

"Mr. Sinclair? The kids?" She asked.

"Safe. Mr. Sinclair took the kids home."

Anna let out a sigh of relief.

"Are the others back yet?" She asked, attempting to sit up only for Jessie to push her back down.

"Yes, the others are back," Jessie said evenly.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah, he's with Rick right now. He'll be by in a bit," Jessie assured, nodding.

Anna forced herself to relax into the bed.

"I'll see about getting you something for the pain," Jessie said, standing.

"Don't worry about it," Anna said, waving him off.

"Well, Denise still needs to take a look at you," he said, walking to the front door before turning back to her. "Why didn't you head for the infirmary?"

"Because," Anna said, "the armory needed to be secured."

"That was stupid, Anna – you could have died," Jessie chastised.

"But I didn't," she countered, smirking.

He glared at her before softening and heading out the door. A few minutes ticked by without anyone coming or going. Anna's eyes began to droop, and she eventually stopped fighting the exhaustion; she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

She jerked awake when the door creaked and opened her eyes to Denise walking through the door with Rick trailing behind her, holding his bloodied hand.

"Let me stitch him up and I'll check on your wound," Denise said quickly, rushing to the supply cabinet. Rick took a seat on the bed next to hers.

"What the hell happened to you?" Anna asked, eyeing the blood dripping from his fist.

"A lot," he said, shaking his head. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine—what about the others?"

"Not everyone made it back," he said carefully. Anna pushed herself up all of the way, grimacing at the throbbing in her side.

"Who?"

"Anna—"

"Who?" She demanded. Rick sighed.

"Sasha, Abraham, Glenn... and Daryl."

Anna felt ice run through her veins and she stared at Rick, his words slowly making their way through her head. The door creaked open again and she turned to see Jessie walking in. He smiled at her for a moment, but it fell away at the sight of Rick.

"Anna—"

"Where are they?" She asked, her voice low.

"I—I don't know," Rick said.

"And when do we go to find them?"

"We… we can't," Jessie whispered.

"Why?" Anna snapped.

"There are roamers surrounding Alexandria and we're trapped," Denise blurted out.

Anna clenched her jaw and took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm before looking between Rick and Jessie.

"What do we do now?"

* * *

After a thorough check up, Denise declared Anna fit enough to return home so long as she did so in a wheel chair and stayed in bed. So, Jessie pushed her down the street, going on about how she needed to listen to the doctor. For the most part, she tuned him out, in too much pain to even think about moving, but she had refused the pain pills Denise had offered. Her mind wasn't on the pain, however.

"Why did you lie to me?"

"I didn't want to stress you out," Jessie said.

"I would have found out eventually—I _did_ find out," she countered, deciding his excuse was lack luster at best.

"Are you going to try to go after them?" Jessie asked.

"If I went out there like this, I'd get myself killed and we'd be no closer to finding them," Anna said. "I may be a stubborn little shit, but I'm not stupid."

Jessie paused as a blonde woman – also named Jessie – walked across their path and up the porch steps Anna recognized as David and Betsy's house. David had been one of those who hadn't made it back.

As the blonde approached, there was a loud thud against the window, and Anna could just hear the growling. The woman looked behind her to see a small crowd gathering in front of the house.

Anna watched silently as she made her way to the front door, opening it slightly so that Betsy's rotting face poked out, snapping and hungry, before driving her knife through Betsy's eye and letting her fall to the ground. She turned to the rest of the crowd, filled with sobs and whispers.

"I used to not want to see the way things are," she started, sheathing her knife. "It's not that I couldn't. It's that I—I didn't want to. But this is what life looks like now. We have to see it. We have to fight it. If we don't fight, we die."

With her closing statement, she walked off the porch and down the street. and the crowd quickly dispersed.

"Nice speech," Jessie said, wheeling Anna forward.

"She's right."

"Didn't say she was wrong."

"Jess," Anna said, and he paused again. "Don't ever lie to me again."

"Anna—"

"Just don't."

* * *

Anna sat at the desk, a list of names and a stack of files in front of her. She had gone through most of the files, marking in the day and cause of deaths for each Alexandrian, but she couldn't bring herself to open the last four files. It was getting late and there had been no sight of Sasha, Abraham, Glenn, or Daryl. Yet, whoever had written up the list of the dead had seemed inclined to believe that they wouldn't come back at all.

"Anna?"

She looked up to find Maggie standing in the doorway, her face grim.

"How are you feelin'?" Maggie asked, stepping further into the office.

"I'll live," Anna assured. "Doc says I can't do a whole lot, which sucks, but she's right."

"Glad to see you're finally listenin' to someone," Maggie teased, sitting down in one of the arm chairs set up in front of the desk.

A moment passed by in which neither spoke, and Anna swore if there was a working clock in the office, the ticking would have been deafening. She knew the real reason Maggie had come to talk to her.

"I want to go with you," Anna finally said, pressing her hands into her knees, trying to ignore the stinging in her side.

"We both know you can't help me this time," Maggie said.

The last time something like this had happened, Anna and Maggie had worked together to find Glenn – bonding over their mutual loss of loved ones. At the time, however, Anna had been convinced that Daryl was dead, convinced that their luck had run out and they'd never find each other again. She still felt guilt over that.

"Is there any way I can convince you to stay?" She asked, knowing that there wasn't.

"No," Maggie said simply. "I just wanted you to know I'm gonna be lookin' for him, too."

Anna nodded and took a deep breath. Without another word, Maggie got to her feet and walked out of the office. She waited until she heard the front door open and shut before picking up the list of names.

She stared at the four names at the bottom and frowned. Finally, she crumpled it up in her hands and tossed it into the trash.


	8. Chapter Seven

Daryl's head throbbed as he opened his eyes to find his hands bound. How long had he been out? He could remember waking up briefly to the darkness of night and the light of a fire, so it had to be the next day.

He clenched his jaw – he'd been gone too long.

Before he could start struggling against his restraints, Daryl looked up to see a blonde man with narrow features staring at him, a gun in hand.

"Get up," the man said, tapping Daryl's boot with the gun. "Hey, get up," he snapped when Daryl didn't move.

Frustrated, the man pointed the weapon at him.

"We're moving. Here's the deal," he said. "You don't say shit and I don't kill you."

"I ain't who you think," Daryl said, unfazed by the gun in his face.

The man pulled the hammer and fixed it to Daryl's forehead.

"Say something else," he sneered. "Go ahead."

Daryl had guns in his face plenty of times – before and after. He knew when someone was willing to pull the trigger and when they weren't. The man in front of him, he knew without a shadow of a doubt, would be willing. So, Daryl said nothing, and the man lowered the gun in favor of pulling him to his feet.

"Follow them," the man instructed, gesturing to the two women standing off to the side.

The brunette picked up a large duffle and they started through the blackened trees. The four walked for some time in silence before the brunette spoke, handing a water bottle to the shorter, blonde woman.

"Here," she said. "Drink the rest."

"We should save it," the other woman said.

"We'll find some more," the brunette insisted. "Drink. You're supposed to stay hydrated. It all works together."

After the blonde took her share, she handed it back only for the brunette to hold it out to Daryl. He didn't take it, so the man did, stopping them.

"We don't need you falling down. Drink," he demanded.

Daryl looked to the other two before taking it.

"If they find us, maybe we give you to them – they let us call it even," the man explained. "You see, we're reasonable people. Everybody's got their code. You feel you gotta kneel, that's fair enough. We don't."

Daryl remained silent, and the man snatched the bottle from his hands, passing it back to the brunette.

"Let's go," he said, and they were off again.

* * *

"I can't believe we're back," the blonde woman muttered as they passed a charred corpse.

"It's not home anymore," the brunette said. "But it's better than where we were."

"This is a pit stop. We pick up Patty, nothing more than that," the man said.

"How'd you do it?" the blonde asked, looking up at one of the bigger trees.

"You saw where we left the truck?" The man asked, and the woman hummed the affirmative. "We opened the valve and drove all the way in from Farmview Road. Ran from the tree line till we got to the pavement. Lit up a matchbook from the Sweetwater and dropped it in on the trail. Then we just ran for the car. Got in and the dead ones were there. They were beating on the hood, and then—and then boom! Knocked 'em on their asses and I took an ax to each one."

"Then we just watched it go up," the brunette continued. "No more moans, no more of that wailing. It was just the fire, just burning them all away."

"You did all this?" Daryl asked, finally breaking his silence.

"It was right at the start," the brunette said. "Everything stopped—the TV, the radio. We were here. The forest was full of them. And the other ones in town, they were drawn to it. They just walked right into the flames. We got most of them," she explained. "Thought we ended it for us, and she was in DC. We thought everyone was fighting them wherever they were."

"Yeah, we thought that was what everybody was doing. Fighting it. That we'd all win together," the man said. "We were stupid."

"Y'all don't think you're bein' stupid right now?" Daryl asked.

The others paused in their walking and the man turned, pulling his gun and leveling it at Daryl's head.

"Are you saying I should kill you?" he asked. "I mean it, are you gonna try and pull something on us? Are we just being thick here by not removing all doubt? Right now, by me not pulling this trigger, is that a mistake? I'm serious. I really wanna know. You made a choice to kill for someone else, to have them own you for a roof over your head and three squares, so maybe I'm not considering all aspects here. You tell me, am I being stupid?"

They stared at each other for a long moment, Daryl considering his next words very carefully. These people were scared and running from something – someone – and he knew how he could help. Daryl didn't care what it took. He needed to get back to Alexandria – back to Anna.

"No," Daryl finally said. "Look, I got somewhere to be. We can make a deal. I can help you out."

"You're one of them," the man said. "You're hurt and you're alone and you'd say anything. We should've never trusted you people to begin with. Go on," he said, gesturing with his gun. "Keep moving."

* * *

"Son of a bitch," the blond man hissed as they stared out over the fuel depot filled with shambling walkers.

The three approached the barbed wire fence cautiously, the brunette woman dropping the duffel.

"Patty," the man said, his voice cracking.

"She could be—" the brunette started before sighing.

The man ran his hands through his hair and groaned. With their backs turned, Daryl inched towards the duffel.

"No, she's gone," he said.

"Then we make another plan."

"Yeah, we get out of here, that's the plan," the man said, turning to her.

Daryl froze.

"Then that's the plan."

"You guys didn't have to do this for me," the blonde woman muttered, calling their attention to her, allowing Daryl to move once again toward the duffel.

"It was the right thing for all of us," the taller woman said.

"This was the right thing?" The blonde asked. "Even if just you guys went back now, if you just told them that it was me…"

"No, we'll find a way," the brunette insisted.

"Look, maybe we don't get as far, but we'll get—" the blonde girl gasped, collapsing as the others caught her.

"Tina!"

"Hey, hey, hey."

With their focus on the girl, Daryl lunged forward and snatched up the duffel. Without hesitation, he turned and ran back into the woods.

"Hey, stop!" He heard from behind. "No!" He kept running, hoping the successive gun shots didn't find purchase on him.

Daryl ran and didn't stop until he couldn't hear the gunfire and the sounds of their calls for him to stop. He jumped over a fallen tree and slid to the ground, peering behind him for their pursuit before yanking his wrist bindings off with his teeth.

He snatched up the duffel and found his walkie.

"Sasha, Abraham, are you there?" He asked, only to receive static.

He heard the growl of a walker as it approached. Groaning, Daryl pulled himself up and dug his crossbow out of the duffel, but he struggled to get it untangled as the walker's snarling grew louder and it drew closer.

Finally, he tore the bow from the duffel and whirled around, falling onto his back as he pulled the trigger and an arrow went flying into the walkers' eye socket. It fell to the ground in a heap.

Daryl lowered his crossbow and turned back to the duffel, his eyes falling on a white and red cooler which read _Insulin Must Be Kept Cool_.

* * *

He approached quickly and cautiously, keeping his crossbow aimed at the blond man, unwilling to take any chances. Of course, this was a rather large chance he was taking in returning, but Daryl knew he had to do this.

"Drop the gun," he demanded as he neared, the man jumping up and aiming. "Drop it," Daryl snapped.

The man finally did as commanded, and Daryl walked closer, holding out his hand.

"Give it to me."

The man handed him the gun and he tucked it into his belt.

"I came all this way. What you got for the duffel?" Daryl asked, and the man stepped a little closer to the women. "You put me through too much shit just to give it back. Principle of the thing." They stared at each other. "What you got besides this gun?"

"Nothing," the brunette said.

"What was that thing you were carving?" Daryl asked after a moment.

The man hesitated but pulled out a piece of carved wood.

"My grandfather taught me how—"

"Don't care. It'll do," Daryl said, snatching the wood from the man's hand before dropping the duffel at his feet. "Take it. It's all there." The man pulled the duffel closer to him and handed it to the women. "Good luck. You're gonna need it," Daryl said, walking away.

The sudden sound of crunching and rustling filled the air, and Daryl could make out the approaching groan of a large engine. He ducked behind a tree and watched as a very large, gray truck pushed through the dead trees and foliage before it squealed to a stop and a group of armed men poured out.

"Let's end this," one of the men called.

"It's ours," the brunette woman said. "We earned what we took."

"You're gonna return what you took," the same man replied. "You're gonna pay for the gas it took to come out here and for all the time these men took out. It's over. You know the rules."

"Your rules are batshit!" the brunette snapped.

"We're not going back, Wade. We're done kneeling," the blond man added.

"Don't change the subject, asshole," Wade growled.

There was a whistle and the truck engine revved, pulling forward. Daryl looked around for a way out of the situation he had no business in, only to see the three heading straight for a trap of men lying in wait.

"Hey, hey—that way," Daryl called, pulling them back. "Come on. Go, go, go." The brunette and blond man headed off where he pointed, but the girl struggled on the ground. "Get up," Daryl huffed, wrapping his arm around her and hauling her to her feet.

He helped her run, and the four of them hid behind a tangle of fallen trees. Daryl considered his options. At the moment, he was the only one armed, and they were facing too many people for him to take on his own.

Pulling the gun from his belt, Daryl hoped he wasn't making a mistake as he held it out to the man.

"Hey, take it," he said.

There was a moment's hesitation before the man accepted the gun.

Daryl peered around a tree and spotted a walker trapped behind a rock and one of the men approaching it. Daryl reached up and rustled some dead leaves, calling the man's attention. The man made his way around the rock, not noticing the walker, and was then grabbed.

He cried out and used the butt of his gun to kill the walker and release himself from its grasp.

"Wade, I'm bit!" he called. "Wade, I'm bit!"

Wade ran up, taking off his belt and wrapping it around the man's arm.

"Take it off me. Do it! Just take it off," the man demanded, out of breath.

"I'll get your watch afterward," Wade assured, pulling out his machete.

Daryl winced as Wade brought the blade down on the man's arm and he screamed.

"Alright, that's it," Wade said into his walkie. "Time to go home. Cam got a boo-boo."

"—_Are you sure? —_" someone replied.

"Oh yeah. He only wanted to take this so far," Wade said. "And he only wants ass that's willing, you know?"

Daryl furrowed his brow.

"Come on, Cam. Let's walk it off," Wade said, pulling Cam to his feet.

Daryl watched intently and waited for them to disappear before turning back to the others.

"We thought you were with them," the blond man said. "We knock you over the head, tie you up, threaten to kill you—why the hell did you come back?"

Daryl looked to the two women, the brunette staring up at him as she cradled the unconscious blond.

"Maybe I'm stupid, too."

* * *

"So, you knew 'em?" Daryl asked as the four trekked through the burnt woods. "And you thought I was one of them?"

"Where we were—we were there since the beginning," Dwight—the blond man—explained. "We still didn't know everyone. Back when we first threw in with them, it was as good a place as any. Then things got harder, people got harder. Human nature kicked in, and it became a truly unique kind of shitshow."

"People will trade anything for safety," Sherry—the brunette—added. "For knowing that they're safe."

"Everything," Dwight agreed. "So, they got nothing left except just… existing."

"Hey, nobody's safe anymore," Daryl said, thinking of how easy it was for everything to be taken away. "Can't promise people that anyhow."

"You could promise the people who want to hear it," Dwight countered.

Tina – who had been silent for the duration of their trip – paused for a moment before taking off out of sight.

"Hey, Tina, hold up," Dwight called as they chased after her.

By the time they had caught up to her, she was standing in front of what looked like a hollowed-out greenhouse. There were some plants that had sprouted around the charred structure, and in the center were two bodies, covered in glass and melted plastic.

"Carla and Delly," Tina said, her voice distant. "That's them."

Tina dropped the duffel and picked some flowers, walking slowly over to the bodies.

"Me and Tina used to babysit them when they were kids," Sherry explained. "Everyone said that they went out north when it all started. We didn't know."

"I did this," Dwight said, staring at the bodies.

"_We_ did this," Sherry corrected.

Daryl watched as Tina got to her knees to place the flowers. Suddenly she jumped up and screamed, attempting to run back; she slipped and fell forward. The bodies moved on her, clawing and biting at her neck and shoulders, tearing into her flesh.

Rushing forward, Daryl quickly took out the walkers; as he pulled the second one from Tina's bleeding neck and drove his knife through its head, Sherry fell on Tina, wrapping her arms around behind her like a cushion.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry baby," she sobbed, "we had to try. We had to try, we had to."

Daryl and Dwight found a couple of shovels and began digging three graves. He glanced over at Sherry, sitting off by herself, her hands covered in blood and her eyes a million miles away. He'd seen that look before.

Making up his mind, Daryl paused in digging and looked to Dwight.

"Hey," he called. "How many walkers you killed?"

Dwight looked to him, confused.

"Just answer the question."

"A lot," Dwight shrugged. "A couple dozen at least."

"How many people you killed?"

"None," Dwight said, turning back to his work.

"Why?"

"Why haven't I killed anybody?" Dwight asked. "Because if I did, there'd be no going back. There'd be no going back to how things were."

Daryl hesitated a moment, but he had already decided.

"I'm from a place," he began, "where people are still like they were… more or less, better or worse."

Dwight looked to him then to Sherry, then got back to digging.

* * *

"I can walk it from here," Daryl said, pulling the broken branches and leaves off his bike. "Till we meet up with my friends."

After burying Tina, Carla, and Delly, Daryl led Sherry and Dwight back to where they had met, all the while telling them a bit about Alexandria—not everything, but he hoped it would be enough to convince them to return with him.

"They got a car. You can ride with them."

"How many friends you say there were?" Dwight asked.

"I didn't. There's two of 'em," Daryl said, pulling his bike up.

"Where are they?"

"We're gonna find out," Daryl huffed.

"How do you know they even got away? That they didn't get taken?" Dwight asked.

"I don't," Daryl said, rolling his bike forward.

Then he heard the sound of a hammer clicking.

"Oh, damn it," he hissed, dropping his bike and reaching for his crossbow as he turned to face Dwight, but the gun was already trained on his head.

"I'm sorry," Dwight said. "Give her the crossbow."

"You gonna go back?" Daryl asked. "You gonna be safe?"

"Shut up," Dwight demanded.

"Ain't nowhere safe no more," Daryl went on.

"Give her the crossbow."

"You gonna kneel?" Daryl asked, making no move to do as he was told.

Dwight moved his aim just over Daryl's shoulder and fired a single warning shot before aiming back at his head.

Daryl stared him down as he took his crossbow off and handed it Sherry; she slung it on her back, then took the gun from Dwight. She kept it aimed at Daryl as Dwight lifted the bike and climbed on, and she did not let up as she circled around the bike. Sherry took her seat behind Dwight as the engine roared to life.

"Patch yourself up," She said, tossing some bandages at his feet. "We're sorry."

"You're gonna be," Daryl said, his voice low.

He watched as Dwight revved the engine and the two took off, disappearing through the trees and leaving him behind.

* * *

Daryl pushed through the brush until he found his way to the charred skeleton with the motorcycle helmet. He stared down at it, now knowing how it got that way, and he realized that Dwight lied. Maybe Dwight hadn't connected the dots with Carla and Delly and didn't realize his lie, but the fact remained that Dwight had killed people—three for certain.

After a moment, Daryl caught sight of something in the dirt. He crouched over what looked like a metal plate and dusted it off. He glanced around, realizing what it was he was standing on, and made his way around the area until he found it. Another truck, hidden by foliage and tangles of branches.

_AA Patrick Fuel Company_.

He cleared the foliage and made his way to the front of the truck, where a walker growled in the driver's seat and began pushing against the door to get at him.

Daryl pulled his knife and opened the door, allowing the walker to fall over, still reaching desperately for him but trapped by a seatbelt. Quick and easy, Daryl drove his knife into the walker's skull and yanked it from the truck.

He wondered if this brought Dwight's body count up to four.

"_There'd be no going back to how things were."_

* * *

Daryl retraced his steps through the forest, the tanker pushing down everything in his path, until he made it back to town. He followed his path through the group of walkers and dumpsters until he spotted a patch of mud on the ground with a very distinct boot print. He could only guess and hope that it belonged to Sasha.

With no other choice, he steered the tanker in the direction the print was facing. There were no other clues to go on as he drove slowly through the town.

He figured that Sasha and Abraham would most likely choose a tall building, if not to watch for him, then to keep an eye out for any more threats. From what he could see of the town, the only building that offered such a vantage point was a three-story, red brick building. There was only a chance that they were there—they may have headed back to Alexandria without him—but Daryl turned the vehicle toward the building.

The tanker squealed to a stop in front and he leaned forward, peering through the windshield up at the windows. At first, he saw nothing in any of the windows. But, as his eyes did a second sweep, he saw movement in the center window on the third floor. Sasha waved down at him, a grin on her face.

A few minutes later, she and Abraham walked out the front doors, the two carrying a long box between them. Daryl's brows shot up; Abraham was in some kind of military uniform with a rocket launcher slung over his shoulder.

* * *

Sometime later, as they sped down the road, Daryl picked the walkie up off of the dashboard.

"Rick, you copy?" He asked. He received nothing but static. "Anybody?" He pressed.

The static hissed for a moment, then there was a voice. Daryl couldn't make out the words.

"Say it again?" Daryl asked.

The static hissed at him again before Eugene's voice came through clear and terrified.

"—_Help_. —"


	9. Chapter Eight

Anna adjusted her seating at the dining table, trying to find the most comfortable position that didn't compromise her stitches. She wasn't exactly sure why Rick had decided she needed to be present for the meeting with Morgan, but at least they were holding it at her house.

"What's going on?" Morgan asked, breaking the tense silence from one side of the table.

"When I was coming back," Rick began, clearing his throat from the other side of the table. "I tried to cut off the herd with the RV," Rick continued. "Lead the walkers away. But five of those people with the _W_s in their foreheads, they stopped me. They tried to kill me, shot up the RV. Now, Carol and Anna tell me they saw you. That you wouldn't kill those people."

"Did you let any of them go?" Carol asked from the other end of the table.

"Yes, I did," Morgan said easily. "I didn't want to kill five people I didn't have to kill," he explained.

"They burned people alive," Carol snapped.

"Yeah," Morgan agreed.

He looked around the table before his eyes landed on Rick.

"Why didn't you kill me, Rick, back in King County?" He asked. "Pulled a knife on you. I stabbed you. So why didn't you kill me? Was it 'cause I saved you after the hospital?"

"'Cause I knew who you were," Rick said, gesturing between them.

"Back there I would have killed you as soon as look at you. And I tried," Morgan insisted. "But you, you let me live and then I was there to help Aaron and Daryl. See, if I—if I wasn't there… if they died… maybe those wolves wouldn't have been able to come back here."

Anna shifted in her chair, grimacing.

"But by not killing those people, they could have killed Rick," Anna said. "You let them go and they compromised the plan. Now we're surrounded by a herd."

"I don't know what's right anymore," Morgan said, running his hands over his face. "'Cause I did want to kill those men. I seen what they did, what they would've kept doin'. I knew I could end it," he paused, shaking his head. "But I also know that people can change. 'Cause everyone sittin' here has," he said looking to each of them in turn. "All life is precious. And that idea—that idea changed me. It brought me back and it keeps me livin'."

"I just don't think it can be that easy," Michonne said from beside Rick.

"It's not easy."

"I wasn't saying—"

"I—I know," Morgan stammered. "And I've thought about letting that idea go. But I don't want to."

"You may have to," Michonne said. "Things aren't as simple as four words. I don't think they ever were."

"Do you think I don't belong here?" Morgan asked.

"Making it now – do you really think you can do that without gettin' blood on your hands?" Rick asked instead.

Morgan shook his head, thinking.

"I don't know."

"Alright," Rick sighed after a moment. "When you figure it out, Morgan, you let me know," he said standing, followed by the others.

Anna stayed seated, watching as Rick, Michonne, and Carol filed out of her house.

"Morgan," she called before he could disappear behind them.

He paused at the door and turned to her and she made to stand, her face pinched in pain.

"Don't get up," Morgan instructed, but she waved off his concerns and got to her feet.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Look, Morgan, I get what you're saying—all life _is _precious—but you're living in a different world. In this one, we don't have a whole lot of options."

"So, just callously kill people?" Morgan asked.

"Think it through," Anna corrected. "If you can. Every action and inaction has consequences."

"There are endless possibilities of how somethin' can turn out, but by killing someone," Morgan started, moving toward her, "we remove all choice."

"It's not like we have a jail cell to put people in until we can decide what to do with them," Anna said. "This is the only way we know how to protect ourselves and the people we love."

"So, learn a new way."

Anna paused, her hand finding the gun strapped to her hip. It had kept her and her loved ones safe and fed. It was all she knew.

"I don't think I can," she said quietly.

"I can show you," Morgan assured. "I can teach you."

Anna stared at him for a moment, considering him and his offer. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious. His philosophy of all life being precious wasn't foreign to her—she believed as much—but she had resigned herself to the fact that killing was just a part of life now.

"Alright," Anna finally said, nodding her head firmly. "Alright, teach me."

"When you're healed," Morgan said, shaking his head. "Don't wanna tear your stitches."

Anna shifted on her feet, wincing at the way the stitches tugged at her skin.

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll hold you to it."

"In the meantime," Morgan said, reaching into his back pocket. "Read this."

He handed her a small, yellow book. On the cover was a black circle and the words _The Art of Peace_. When she looked up again, Morgan was shutting the front door.

* * *

The clock didn't work. She didn't know why she insisted on keeping it in the office, but all the same Anna stared at it, waiting for the hands to move. It was like watching paint dry – only the paint never dried. It was something to focus on – something to keep her mind from conjuring up scenarios that kept the others from making it home.

She didn't want to think about how Glenn had gone with Nicholas to set a fire—as Michonne had told her. How he was alone with a scared man with a history of getting the people she cared about killed.

She didn't want to think about Sasha and Abraham leading a massive herd of the dead in a junker that looked as though it were on its last legs, barely sputtering down the road.

And she didn't want to think about Daryl potentially never coming home.

Anna turned her attention to the small yellow book set on the desk in front of her. She reached out and tilted it toward her. _The Art of Peace_. Morihei Ueshiba. Translated by John Stevens. Pursing her lips, Anna flipped through the pages.

"Excuse me?" Anna looked up to find a young woman standing in the doorway. "Hi, sorry to bother you. I was told to bring you these," she said, holding out an orange bottle of pills.

"I told Denise I didn't want any pain pills," Anna said.

"She said they're antibiotics," the woman said, stepping further into the room to set the bottle down on the desk. "She also wanted me to make sure you were staying in bed."

"Your name is Lindsey, isn't it?" Anna asked, recalling that the interview with Lindsey had been rather pleasant.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Thank you for bringing this to me," Anna said, reaching for the bottle.

"No problem. Denise was going to bring them over, but Morgan needed her for something," Lindsey explained, shrugging.

"What did he need her for?" Anna asked, furrowing her brow.

"I don't know," Lindsey shrugged. "Maybe he got hurt in the attack?"

"Maybe," Anna muttered, although she didn't believe it for a second. "How are you doing after that, by the way?" She asked, deciding she'd deal with Morgan later.

"I'm alright, my parents and I hid in the attic," Lindsey said, her hazelnut eyes narrowing.

"You don't seem too happy about that," Anna observed.

"I wanted to help protect everyone. Like you and the others," she explained.

"Have you ever shot a gun before?" Anna asked, cocking a brow at her, remembering that Lindsey and her family had only spent a month outside the walls after the turn.

"No," Lindsey admitted reluctantly.

"Then I think your parents made the right choice," Anna said, immediately worrying that she came across as harsh. "Look, Rosita is going to be teaching a defense class—I think she's starting with the machete. If your parents are okay with it—and I hope they are—you should go."

"If they're not okay with it?" She asked.

"After what happened here yesterday, I think they should understand that you need to know how to protect yourself. Even inside the walls," Anna assured.

"Okay," Lindsey said, grinning. "Thank you. I should get back – I was supposed to be getting some Aspirin for my dad."

Anna smiled and waved her off, watching as the teen spun around and darted around the corner, her curly brown hair bouncing behind her.

Shaking her head, Anna looked back at the book in her hands, not even the length of her hand. She turned to the first page after the introduction.

_The art of peace begins with you. Work on yourself and your appointed task in the Art of Peace. Everyone has a spirit that can be refined, a body that can be trained in some manner, a suitable path to follow. You are here for no other purpose than to realize your inner divinity and manifest your innate enlightenment. Foster peace in your own life and then apply the Art to all that you encounter._

"Almost sounds like a cult," Anna muttered before reading on.

From what she could tell in the first few pages, the message was good overall, if a bit lofty; be one with the universe and do no harm, and as Morgan had said, all life is precious.

She carefully read through more of the passages, some more than once so that the words would sink in. Even after rereading them, there were a few that she didn't quite understand. She took notes, making note of the passages she had questions or comments about.

After some time, Anna set down her pen and sat back in her chair, satisfied with her progress so far. She looked to her broken clock and pursed her lips.

* * *

Against doctor's orders, Anna walked down the street towards the infirmary. She figured that Morgan wasn't going to tell her why he needed Denise's help—so she decided to go straight to Denise. She just hoped the woman had returned from whatever it was Morgan needed her for.

Anna huffed as she walked up the front steps and pushed the front door open.

No Denise in sight.

"Damn," Anna said under her breath as she took a seat on one of the gurneys.

She looked around the infirmary until her eyes trailed over to the window, where she had a good view of the tower looming on the horizon; suddenly, she wondered if they were all alone in this new world.

"Of course not," she muttered to herself, picking at a bit of string on her jeans.

There had to be other communities out there – they just hadn't found each other yet. If anyone out there was even looking. Rick certainly didn't think they needed to. Anna wasn't so sure she agreed with that sentiment.

She tapped her fingers against her knee before pulling herself to her feet and walking over to the window. Alone in the infirmary, with nothing to distract her, Anna's mind wandered away from the possibilities and to the reality of their situation.

Sasha, Abraham, Glenn, and Daryl were missing, and Alexandria was surrounded. All she wanted to do was go out there and find the others, but she was stuck with her side stitched together. There was nothing any of them could do to fix anything, and she hated it.

In the distance, something rose into the sky. Anna squinted and pressed her face against the window, holding her hands around her eyes and watching as a small cluster of green balloons floated through the air.

_What the hell?_

A loud groan called her attention, and she looked to the tower. As if in slow motion, the top half of it began to lean forward. She backed away from the window, eyes wide, as wood splintered and the structure fell like a domino, the top of it no longer visible over the rooftops.

She could just hear the metal wall—the wall that kept Alexandria safe—collapsing as the tower crushed it.

"Fuck."


	10. Chapter Nine

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," Anna hissed, checking her clip to make sure it was full as she headed out onto the front porch.

She looked up to see Alexandrians running past, some frantically looking behind them and tripping over themselves. Then her eyes landed on Lindsey helping one of the older residents to his feet, a walker coming up behind her.

Anna quickly aimed and fired, dropping the walker just before its fingers curled into Lindsey's hair. Lindsey looked behind her, shock on her face.

"Lindsey," Anna called, and the girl looked to her. "Get inside!"

Lindsey nodded and pulled the man with her towards the infirmary. Anna kept watch as she and the old man rushed past followed by Heath, Spencer, Aaron, and a few others, shooting down walkers that got too close. With a clip and a half, she needed to conserve her ammo as long as possible.

Once everyone was in, she headed back inside before she attracted more of the dead. Peering through the windows, Anna watched as the street filled with walkers.

"Shit."

"Anna, what do we do?"

Turning to face the others, she found Lindsey standing in front of them all, determination set on her face as she waited for Anna to give them direction.

"We stay here," Anna said. "Keep quiet."

"But—"

"We can't get to the armory. How many of you have weapons?" Anna asked, cutting the young woman off.

"I have a knife," Lindsey said.

"I have a gun," Aaron said, stepping forward.

"Me, too," Heath nodded.

"I've got a rifle," Spencer said, holding it up.

"Anyone else?" Anna asked, only to receive silence. "Those of you without guns, go upstairs and make sure all the lights are off. Take the patients upstairs with you. Stay up there and stay quiet," she instructed, the three other people in the building heading upstairs without a fuss. "How many clips do you have?" Anna asked, turning back to Heath, Spencer, and Aaron.

"Just one," Aaron said.

She looked to the others and they nodded. Anna grimaced and turned away from them, looking out the window again. She tried to spot an opening to get to the armory, but the crowd of walkers was too dense. There was nothing they could do that didn't risk the lives of everyone present.

"Anna?"

"We wait it out," she finally said, turning back to them. "It's going to get dark eventually, we need to keep quiet and keep the lights off."

"Just wait?" Lindsey asked, incredulous. "We should be doing something."

"We are," Anna said firmly. "We're protecting everyone that's in this building," Anna said, gesturing to the unconscious man on the bed on the other side of the room before he, too, was carried upstairs.

"What about the people that aren't in this building?" Lindsey pushed.

Anna pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated and in pain as she turned back to the door.

"You should be upstairs," Anna said, choosing to ignore Lindsey for the moment.

"But—"

"Now," Anna snapped.

When she turned back, Lindsey was still standing there, only this time with Aaron's gun in her hand.

"I want to help."

"Lindsey, you don't even know how to use that."

"Show me," she suggested.

"Now is not the time for a lesson," Anna huffed, heading to the front door to peer out the window again; nothing had changed.

"I think now is the perfect time," Lindsey insisted.

Anna clenched her jaw, searching the surrounding area for any sign of survivors before she turned back to Lindsey. Anna was taken aback by the determined look set into Lindsey's face and the gun in her hand, hanging at her side.

She was suddenly struck with the sense of looking in the mirror. It was like she was seeing into the past to a time before Fort Benning; before the back of that car—before the new world caught up to her.

It was because of this fact that Anna knew one thing for certain; Lindsey was not going upstairs.

"Alright, first lesson," Anna said, walking toward her and holding out her hand for the gun.

Lindsey reluctantly handed it over.

"How many bullets are in this gun?" Anna asked, sliding the clip out and passing it back to the teen before pulling back the chamber to see that it was empty.

It was a 9mm, a familiar weapon to Anna. The girl counted.

"Fifteen," Lindsey said, nodding to herself.

"Correct," Anna said, taking the clip and sliding it back into place. "This is how you take it out—" she showed her the release, "slide it back in. This is a 9mm Berretta," Anna explained, handing it back to her.

"You can't seriously think this is the time for a training session?" Spencer asked. . .

"Do you know how many bullets the others have?" Anna asked Lindsey, ignoring him.

"No," Lindsey said, shaking her head.

"Heath?"

"Fifteen," Heath huffed.

"Spencer?"

"Ten."

"How many bullets is that?" She asked, turning back to Lindsey.

"Forty," Lindsey said after a moment.

"Plus, my twenty," Anna said, presenting her gun and clip, "makes sixty." She gestured for Lindsey to go to the front door. "Look out the window—count how many walkers are out there."

Lindsey peered out the window and shook her head.

"They keep moving—I—I can't count them all," she said.

"Can you see the armory?" Anna asked.

"No," Lindsey said, turning back to her.

"Tell me if the safety on that gun is on or off."

"It's on," she said, not looking at the weapon.

"Are you sure?" Anna asked.

Lindsey looked down at the gun and turned it over in her hands.

"I… I don't know," she admitted quietly.

"Always be aware of the status of your gun; how many bullets are in the clip," Anna started, holding up a finger before raising another, "if there's one in the chamber," she held up a third finger, "if the safety is on or off. Anytime someone hands you a gun—I don't care how well you know them—you check those three things."

Anna walked closer to Lindsey and turned the girls hand over so that the safety faced the ceiling, pointing at the little switch.

"This is the safety—it's on. Flip it down and you're ready to fire," Anna said.

Lindsey stared down at the gun, her brow furrowed.

"You've never shot a gun before and we don't have the luxury of target practice at the moment," Anna said, her tone far gentler than it had been throughout the first lesson. "Ammo goes fast. We need to conserve it and protect the people we can."

"My parents are out there," Lindsey whispered.

Anna closed her eyes, gathering herself before she looked at Lindsey again.

"You have no idea how much I want to go out there right now, Lindsey," Anna said softly. "My family is out there, too. We need to operate under the assumption that they made it to safety."

Lindsey took a deep breath and stared at the gun a moment longer before meeting Anna's gaze, that determination still on her face.

"What's the next lesson?"

* * *

Night fell and nothing had changed. Lindsey sat at the table, studying the 9mm while Aaron, Heath, Spencer, and Anna kept vigil at the windows. Anna focused on the walkers, doing her best to ignore the pain in her side and come up with a plan that went beyond sitting and waiting.

"Hey."

She looked over her shoulder to see Spencer approaching, a bottle of pills in hand.

"You look like you could use these," he said, holding the pills out to her.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," she said, turning away from him.

"Anna, you're barely on your feet," Spencer said. "We don't need you passing out on us, so take the damn pills."

She wanted to tell him that he could shove the pills up his ass, but she did another headcount of the walkers and decided it may be best if she wasn't so stubborn this time. So, she took the bottle and popped it open.

"Thanks," she said, swallowing one pill.

"Listen, Anna… about everything," Spencer started, rubbing the back of his neck, "between you and me… I just… I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"You're apologizing?" She asked.

"Yeah. I should have respected your boundaries—should've listened to what you were telling me," he explained. "I wish it hadn't gone down the way it did. I was stupid, and I'm sorry."

Anna searched his face, looking for a sign that said he was just bullshitting her. But she saw nothing.

"I accept your apology and forgive you," she finally said.

"Seriously? Just like that?" Spencer asked, his brows raised in surprise.

"Just don't do that shit again," she warned.

"I won't," he assured.

"You—"

"Ah!"

Anna whirled around and stared out the window, searching for the source of the screaming until it died out.

"Maybe someone tried to make a run for it?" Heath asked, coming up beside her.

_POP!_

"Maybe someone is trying to make a stand," Aaron said.

"We should help them," Lindsey said, standing from the table.

Anna listened for a moment, waiting for more gunfire. She shook her head when nothing came. "No, there'd be more gunfire," she said, pacing over to the front door.

"Anna—" Spencer said.

"We stay put," she interrupted.

"Anna—" Lindsey called.

"I said we stay put," Anna snapped.

"Anna, you're bleeding," Aaron said quickly before she could cut him off.

Anna looked down and saw blood slowly soaking a small spot onto her shirt.

"Damn it," she hissed, lifting her shirt to inspect the damage. A couple of the stitches had come out.

"Is that Denise?" Heath asked, looking out the window.

Anna and the others looked up to see Denise running alongside a man none of them had ever seen before.

"What the hell are they doing?" Spencer asked, astonished.

"Something stupid," Anna grumbled.

_POP! POP! POP!_

"Go!"

The strange man fell to the ground. Anna's eyes darted up to see Carol standing on a balcony, lowering a gun. Denise hesitated, looking back at the man as he was swarmed by walkers.

"Go," he yelled over the walkers as they took him over, and Denise ran for the infirmary.

"Come on, come on," Aaron called, opening the door for the woman as she ran inside.

"You okay?" Spencer asked, touching her arm only for her to flinch back.

"I'm fine. How are my patients?" She asked breathlessly.

"They're doin' well. We moved them upstairs just in case," Heath explained. "Anna tore some stitches, though."

"I'm alright,"

"Oh my god," Aaron breathed, staring out the side window.

The others did the same to see Michonne cutting through the herd, Rick in tow carrying a limp body. Anna's brother right behind them, stabbing at any walkers that got too close.

"Carl," Anna gasped.

"Is he bit?" Heath asked.

Anna felt her chest heaving as she watched them make their way to the infirmary, the frantic look on Michonne's face, the fear on Rick's.

"Nope," Denise said, starting off into the house.

"What?" Aaron asked, the men following her.

"I need bandages. Top shelf, next to the sink," she said, pointing the men off. "Two IVs from the fridge and all the clean towels you can find. Aaron, grab the gurney."

Anna tore open the door, allowing Rick, carrying Carl, followed by Michonne and Jessie, to run inside, covered in blood. She stared helplessly at the gaping hole in Carl's face.

"This is a gunshot?" Denise asked as Rick set Carl down on the gurney in the middle of the room.

"Handgun," Michonne clarified as Anna shut the door. "Close range."

"Please save him," Rick breathed, backing away. "Please."

The room suddenly filled with light and Anna snapped out of her daze, tearing her eyes away from Carl.

"That's gonna draw them here," Spencer said.

"I need light," Denise snapped. "Michonne, towel. Hold it here—"

Anna ignored the rest of the room as she turned to Rick. Gently, she reached out and took hold of what looked like a bed sheet covered in guts and blood, lifting it over Rick's head and throwing it into the corner.

"Rick," she said. "Rick, Denise is going to do everything she can," she assured.

He didn't seem to hear her, however, as he started backing away and looking out the window. She looked to Jessie.

"What the hell happened out there?" She asked, checking him over for damage as he pulled his bed sheet off.

"That kid, he shot—he shot Carl," he stammered, shaking his head.

The creak of the door opening interrupted Anna's next question.

"Rick, what are you doing?" Michonne asked as Rick stepped out the front door. "Rick!"

He shut the door behind him.

"Rick's out there," Michonne said, frantic.

"Hold on," Denise instructed calmly, focused on her task.

"He needs my help!"

"One more suture," Denise said.

"He's out there," Michonne insisted.

"This is his son, give me a second," Denise said, pausing to look Michonne in the eye.

"He's taking them all on, we have to go get him," Aaron said.

"What?' Spencer asked.

"We have to," Heath agreed. "This is it."

"Okay, got it," Denise called.

Michonne kissed Carl's forehead and ran out the door, followed by Aaron, Heath and—after a moment—Spencer.

"I'm going, too," Jessie said, patting Anna on the shoulder before taking off after them.

Anna turned to see Lindsey staring at Carl, her eyes glued to the bloody hole in his face.

"Lindsey?" Anna called, stepping toward the girl.

She seemed to snap out of it, shaking her head as she took a step back.

"I should go out there, too," she said, carefully arranging her face to disguise the fear Anna saw.

"Lindsey," Anna started.

"You can't stop me, Anna," Lindsey snapped.

"I know," Anna sighed.

"I—" Lindsey cut herself off. "Wait, what?"

"I can't stop you," Anna said, shrugging her shoulders. "They need cover – so that's what we're going to do."

"Anna, your side," Denise warned.

"I won't leave the porch," Anna assured. "Lindsey, come here—bring the gun," she instructed, gesturing for the teen to come closer.

Lindsey stepped closer and held out the gun, a slight tremble in her hands. Anna adjusted her hold and made her raise the gun.

"This is how you aim. Line this—" she tapped the notch at the tip of the gun than tapped the two notches at the back of the gun, "—between these. Whatever is lined up with this one—" she said tapping the first notch again, "—is where the bullet is going to go. Don't close your eyes."

"Okay," Lindsey said, nodding as she practiced.

"If you don't think you can do this, I need you to tell me now. It's okay if you're not ready," Anna said, squeezing Lindsey's shoulder.

"I can do it," Lindsey insisted.

Anna stared at her for a moment before nodding.

"Okay, but we aren't leaving the porch." she said, leading the girl out the door. "If we can help it."

They stood in the light of the porch, walkers shambling after the small group of survivors that had gone out to fend them off.

"Plant your feet, shoot the ones that get too close and conserve your ammo," Anna said.

Lindsey mimicked Anna's stance and aimed her gun. She took a moment to find her target.

"It's going to have a kick," Anna warned.

Lindsey made no outward acknowledgement before she pulled back on the trigger. Her hands flew up a little and she shook them out one by one before aiming again.

"I missed," she hissed.

"Now you know about the kick, adjust for it," Anna said, aiming her own gun and firing at a walker getting just a little too close behind Heath.

Lindsey aimed again and fired, this time hitting a walker in the shoulder before she fired again, hitting it in the side of the head. It crumpled to the ground, and a few other walkers tripped over it and each other.

"Good," Anna nodded. "Keep it up."

The two continued to fire into the crowd of walkers, attracting a few of the corpses to the porch. Anna shifted her focus and shot down a walker as it made its way up the porch steps.

"Anna!"

She turned to Lindsey to find her pointing across the crowd. Following her finger, Anna's eyes landed on the gazebo, where a lone figure shoved back a corpse before plunging his knife into the forehead of another.

"Jessie," Anna gasped.

Whirling around, Anna aimed her gun and fired at a walker as it lunged toward him.

"What do we do?" Lindsey asked.

"Stay on the porch and keep the walkers back," Anna instructed, starting toward the stairs.

"No!" Lindsey snapped, grabbing Anna's arm and pulling her to a stop.

"Lindsey, I'm not arguing with you," Anna hissed.

"You're hurt, you'll just get yourself killed," Lindsey reasoned. "At least I have a chance."

"Lindsey—"

"I can do it."

Anna cast a frantic look at Jessie before turning back to Lindsey.

"I'll keep the walkers off you," Anna finally said.

Lindsey nodded and took a deep breath before rushing forward, shoving a walker out of her way and launching herself into the crowd.

Anna fired, keeping the walkers off the teen, trying her best to keep her attention on the girl and not on her brother, surrounded by the dead with only a knife. When her gun clicked Anna cursed and reloaded, looking up in time to see that Lindsey had made it to the gazebo, having left a path connecting her to the porch like some invisible rope around her waist—a path that was slowly filling in with more walkers. The two rushed the crowd, pushing and stabbing the walkers out of their way. Anna's attention shifted for a moment as a walker stumbled its way onto the porch, swiping its rotting hands at her as she took a step back. She fired a single shot into its head and turned back to her brother and Lindsey.

Distantly, Anna could hear gunfire. But her horrified focus was on Jessie as he fell backwards into the crowd.

"No!"

Lindsey lunged forward, firing into the face of a walker just before its rotting teeth could close around Jessie's shoulder. She tore Jessie out of the crowd, practically throwing him towards the porch, losing her balance in the process. Jessie stumbled forward, hitting the stairs hard.

Anna dragged him the rest of the way onto the porch before the two turned to the terrible screams emitting from the cluster of walkers, the corpses falling over each other as they piled on top of Lindsey.

"Lindsey!" Anna shrieked, rushing forward only for Jessie to wrap his arms around her and pull her back. "We have to help her!"

The siblings watched helplessly as Lindsey pulled back on the trigger of her gun until her clip was empty and she disappeared within the crowd, her screams echoing over the snarls of the walkers until they faded into nothing.

* * *

Anna sat on the porch, staring out over the town, the sun warming her face. She clasped her hands together, resting her forearms on her knees, adjusting her position to relieve the pain from her fresh stitches. Her eyes wandered over to the patch of deep red grass.

_She was numb as she pulled back on the trigger, putting down walker after walker until she ran out of bullets. Anna yanked at the corpses and tossed them to the side, stabbing at the ones she hadn't managed to shoot, until she reached the bottom of the pile._

_ Laying there, staring at the slowly brightening sky, pure terror still lingering in her eyes, was Lindsey. Her hair was matted with sweat and blood, sticking to her face._

_ "Anna," she heard distantly._

_ "I did this," Anna breathed, brushing the hair away from Lindsey's face. "This was me."_

_ "No, Anna. You didn't—"_

_ "I let her go. It should have been me."_

_"Don't do that."_

_ She finally looked up at her brother standing over her; he wasn't looking at her—his eyes were glued to Lindsey's face._

_ "Tell me you're not blaming yourself, too," Anna said quietly. "Tell me you're not trying to figure out how you could have changed things."_

_ "Anna—"_

_ "You can't, because you are," she said, shaking her head as she turned back to the lifeless teen. "This is my fault," she said as she carefully drove her knife into Lindsey's ear._

Lindsey's parents had carried her body away thirty minutes ago, her father cradling her in his arms while her mother walked slowly behind him, both of them openly crying. No one told them why she was in the crowd in the first place. Anna wanted to tell them she had died saving a life – but would it even matter?

"Anna?"

Anna looked up to see Morgan standing over her, leaning on his stick.

"You should get your stitches looked at," he said, gesturing to her bloodied side.

"I already did," she said blandly, turning back to stare at the red stain in the grass.

Morgan sat down beside her, following her gaze.

"What was her name?" He asked, digging in his pocket.

"Lindsey."

Finally, Morgan pulled his hand from his pocket and passed Anna a piece of wrinkled paper. Reluctantly, Anna took the paper from him and read the three names scribbled on it.

Deanna

Sam

Ron

Jessie

Anna's heart clenched at the last name – that would have been her brother's name she was reading if it hadn't been for Lindsey.

"Here," Morgan said, holding out a short yellow pencil.

She ground her teeth before taking the pencil and laying out the paper against her knee. Carefully, she wrote out Lindsey's name at the bottom of the list. She paused for a moment, considering how appropriate it was for her to be writing Lindsey's name on the list of the dead. After all, it had been Anna that had sent the girl to her death.

"It wasn't your fault."

Anna furrowed her brow, staring at the list. Four more names to add to the wall.

"Anna, look at me."

She turned her head and looked at him, waiting for him to go on about how she couldn't control everything, repeating everything that Jessie had tried to convince her of.

He stared at her for a moment before looking away, squinting at the sun as it rose in the sky.

"Go get some rest," he finally said. "I'll tell Daryl you went home."

Anna looked away from him and back at the bloodied grass.

"I should wait for him—"

"He'll understand."

Anna let out a long sigh, thinking about Daryl getting stitched up in the infirmary, before finally nodding and pushing herself to her feet. Without another word she started down the street, looking at nothing in particular as her mind hazily went over everything that had happened.

Without really noticing, Anna found herself in the bathroom, peeling off her clothes. It was then that she finally remembered the piece of paper in her hand. She uncurled her fist and set the list on the counter, staring at it for a moment before tearing her eyes away from it and stepping into the shower.

The warm water cascaded over her skin. She watched as the blood and grime swirled around the drain and disappeared. Once she was done in the shower, Anna found some clean clothes and grabbed the list, falling into bed and curling into the covers.

She held the list out in front of her face, reading over the names again, imagining their faces. Anna understood that it was just the way things were now—had come to terms with it. But she hated it all the same. Her skin tingled and her fingers twitched.

Anna heard the door creak open moments before the bed sunk down, and she felt a hand on her back. Without warning, her chest seemed to constrict. A hot tear slipped down the side of her face. Daryl scooted closer to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her against him as she wept.


	11. Chapter Ten

_Fort Benning, 453 days earlier…._

Anna hit the ground hard, her back and chest throbbing as Val stood over her with a satisfied smirk. All she wanted to do was knock him on his ass and wipe that stupid grin off his face.

"On your feet, Wycoff," Drill Sergeant growled.

"Come on," Val said, offering her a hand up.

She ignored his hand and climbed to her feet, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Her chest still felt congested—coupled with the exercise induced asthma. She might as well not even have lungs if they weren't going to fucking work.

"Again," Drill Sergeant ordered.

"You alright? Maybe you should head back to the infirmary?" Val suggested, getting into position again.

"I'm fine," Anna said firmly, readying herself.

"Begin."

Val rushed her and she jumped back, dodging his fist as it flew towards her face. She threw her fist out, missing him entirely—just like every day since she got out of the infirmary.

She heaved a breath, staring down Val as she assessed him. He was taller and broader than her, and his breathing was a lot less labored than hers. She was smaller, currently slower with fatigue, and inexperienced. Anna was outmatched and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Just like always.

Anna ground her teeth and narrowed her eyes. She took a step forward, ready to swing at Val again when he stepped forward, slid his arm through hers and around her back, and then lifted her. She felt weightless, like nothing was holding her to the ground and she would just fly away. But gravity came rushing back to her as Val pushed her down, laying her flat on her back, his hand against her collarbone, holding her at bay.

"You sure are feisty," he said, his face cracking into another smirk.

_"You sure are feisty, Annie."_

Anna's eyes widened and her heart seemed skipped a beat before pounding against her chest. The smirk fell away from Val's face just before her fist slammed into his temple, knocking him off. With his weight off of her, Anna rolled away from him and clamored to her feet, her breathing ragged as she stared at him, eyes wild and terrified.

"Ow!" Val snapped, holding the side of his face as it turned red with anger.

He took a threatening step toward her and she took a step back, her entire body trembling.

_"Don't be like that, Annie."_

_ Shut up, shut up, shut up! _She screamed at herself, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. Her fingers twitched towards her thigh.

"Stand down."

Anna opened her eyes to find Val relaxing his stance, the red slowly fading from his face as he calmed down. Drill Sergeant stepped forward.

"That's enough for today. Val, you've got perimeter duty with Herring to get to," Drill Sergeant said. "You're dismissed."

Val clicked his boots together and saluted Drill Sergeant before heading off. Anna watched him go, her body not relaxing until he disappeared inside the gym several yards away.

"Wycoff," Drill Sergeant called.

Anna stiffened again and turned to the older man. He stared at her for a moment before Anna reminded herself to stand at attention, her chest still heaving with the effort and panic of the training session.

"At ease," he said. "Follow me," he ordered as he turned and started walking off.

Anna furrowed her brow, but followed after him. They walked at an easy pace in silence and Anna watched as the sun slowly fell behind the trees, the sky turning brilliant shades of oranges and yellows. It was such a beautiful sunset, something she normally would have loved to watch. But things weren't normal anymore. The serenity of the sunset, those moments of peace and quiet—they were unsettling to her now.

"How have you been feeling?" Drill Sergeant asked, his tone nonchalant as they continued walking through the compound, soldiers jogging past for late day P.T.

Anna reached up and lightly touched the irritated skin around the stitched cut running from her right temple to the top of her right cheekbone.

"Fine," Anna said, irritation in her voice as she let her hand fall back to her side.

When she arrived at Fort Benning and it was determined that she could stay, the doctor ran all sorts of tests on her—physicals, blood work, etc. She had bronchitis—which had been very close to turning to pneumonia—and infections in her open wounds, which were preventing them from healing. She was immediately put on antibiotics, stitched up, and put on bed rest for about two weeks until her bronchitis cleared up enough for her to be assigned her own bunk.

Once she was well enough, training started. She had run miles, participated in drills, watched simulations, and spent time in the gym and in the classroom every day for the past five days. There were still more days of this to come.

They were training her to be a soldier, something she never thought she'd be.

"Look, Wycoff. I ain't here to be your friend," Drill Sergeant started, stopping in front of the chow hall, where soldiers were going in for dinner. "I don't need to know what happened in the past. But whatever it is—it's distracting you, holding you back. So, take some advice; use the training to block out those thoughts. It'll make you a much better fighter, and you may just make it out of this thing alive."

With that, he gave a single nod and started into the building, disappearing into the crowd.

"Hey, Anna!"

She turned towards the sound of her name to see Marley and Val heading toward her, both with grins on their faces as they approached.

"Ready for dinner?" Marley asked before the three headed inside.

* * *

_Present, Alexandria…,_

Anna stood in front of the mirror hanging on the wall beside the bedroom door, lifting her shirt to see the length of fresh scar tissue running horizontally along her side. She ran her fingers over it, the skin still tenders after removing the stitches that morning. It started at her right bottom rib and curled around her side to end to the right of her lower back. It had taken roughly two weeks for the wound to heal completely.

Lowering her shirt, Anna turned away from the mirror and tied her hair up. Daryl was seated in the arm chair, shoving his feet into his boots.

"Almost done with the wall," he said, tying his laces. "Gonna start on makin' some spikes for the perimeter."

Anna nodded, pursing her lips. She had been stuck doing nothing for the past two weeks while everyone else was useful in clearing the bodies and rebuilding Alexandria. For the most part, she had been left alone with her work, her books, and her thoughts. Too many thoughts.

"You alright?" Daryl asked, pulling her back into the conversation.

"Yeah, now that I'm cleared for action," she said, forcing herself to smirk at him as believably as possible.

He was quiet for a moment, and she knew he saw right through her, but he said nothing and started for the door.

"Don't overwork yourself," he warned, pausing beside her to brush the back of his hand against hers.

"When have I ever done that?" She asked playfully.

Daryl cocked an eyebrow at her and shook his head before finally heading out. She watched him disappear and listened for the front door to open and close before she allowed herself to deflate. She hadn't realized she was standing so stiffly.

It was as though whenever someone was around, she had flipped on an artificial light to force some sort of brightness to her demeanor. But the moment she was alone, that light went out and the overbearing dark cloud returned to loom over her. Anna wondered if anyone noticed. But it didn't matter. No one ever said anything.

Anna heaved a sigh and made her way to the office, where she had spent most of her time the past two weeks, working through the _Art of Peace_. At this point, she had an entire notebook full of notes and questions—it had been a good distraction.

She stepped over to the desk and gathered the small yellow book and her notebook, holding them to her chest as she looked at what had been hidden beneath; a CD shut inside a plastic case.

There were no identifying marks on it, but it hadn't moved since she had transferred the audio file onto it, unwilling—unable—to touch it. She had listened to the file over a hundred times the first few days after Lindsey's death, and it still echoed in her mind as clear as if it were happening all over again.

At night though, Anna could only hear her screams.

A rapid knocking at the door made Anna jump, whirling around to stare out into the hallway. After a moment, she headed out of the office and to the front door. Through the glass pane, she could see a blurry figure.

Slowly, Anna pulled the door open to find Morgan standing there, his back to the door as he watched people walking towards the church, headed off to finish the wall.

"Morgan?" Anna asked.

He turned to her, a tranquil smile on his face and a stick in each hand.

"Denise told me you had your stitches taken out this mornin'," he said, holding one stick out to her. "I told you I'd teach you when you healed."

Anna looked between his face and the stick.

"Here I am."

* * *

"Feel the weight of it. How does it feel?" Morgan asked as they walked into the fenced-in backyard.

"It's good—not too light, not too heavy. Is that how it's supposed to feel?" Anna answered, running her hands over the smooth wood. "Is this what you've been doing the past two weeks?"

"Took a while," Morgan shrugged. "We'll start with proper stance and go from there."

"Alright." Anna nodded, positioning her feet shoulder length apart, like she'd been taught before. "How's this?" She asked, holding the stick level with her hips.

"Good, you've got good form," Morgan praised. "But, that's not where we start."

"What do you mean?" Anna asked.

"You're ready to fight—but that's what we want to avoid," he explained as he stood in front of her, straight and solid as a tree, his stick resting easily at his side. "This is where we start."

"Okay," Anna said uneasily, mimicking his stance.

Morgan stared her in the eyes, his face intense as he slowly bowed to her.

"You need to remember that the person you're facing is another human being. Another life that deserves respect. Show it to them."

"Am I supposed to bow every time I get into an altercation?" Anna asked, bowing in return.

"No—this is just a reminder of what kind of mindset you need to be in when you do get into an altercation," Morgan corrected. "All living creatures deserve respect. All life is precious."

_"No!"_

_ "Lindsey!"_

_ "We have to help her!"_

Anna shook her head and focused on adjusting her stance.

"So, I read that book," Anna said, keeping her breathing even as she moved into the next position Morgan showed her.

"Good."

"I have questions," she said, glancing at the notebook lying on the back porch alongside the small, yellow book.

"Ask away," Morgan said, standing back in the first position.

"First of all; where did you learn this stuff? _When_ did you learn this stuff?" She asked, following suit. "Did you really survive all this time with just Aikido?"

Morgan smiled, "A cheese maker," he said. "Not too long ago, I met a man named Eastman. I tried to kill him."

"You?" Anna asked, incredulous, remembering the Wolves he refused to kill.

"I wasn't always like this. I was crazy—lost. But, Eastman—he saw that I could come back, that I could change. He gave me a chance to be different—better," he explained. "I imagine Fort Benning gave you the same."

Anna said nothing as they moved through the positions at a slow pace, Morgan adjusting her hands and stance as needed.

"Rick told me you've been through some of the worst this world has to offer."

Anna's heart skipped a beat, but she moved into the next position.

"I'm not the same person I was when I first met Rick," Anna said, moving back into first position.

"I don't think any of us are the same people we were."

"Things happen and people change," Anna nodded.

"They do," Morgan agreed. "But people can come back."

"_Do you think we can ever come back from the things we've done?"_

"I don't know if I believe that," Anna said, fiddling with her stick. The wood was sanded down and polished.

"What do you believe?" Morgan asked, leaning against his stick, studying her.

Anna shrugged, lifting her stick and getting back into first position before continuing through the routine.

"We can't go back to the way things were," she explained. "All we can do is try to be better—better than who we were and better than who this world tries to turn us into. We're like these sticks," she said as she moved fluidly into each position. "We started out one way, but we were sanded down, and now we just have to polish ourselves. We've evolved from our original state into something different. And there's no going back."

It was like the first lesson of _The Art of Peace_; "Everyone has a spirit that can be refined, a body that can be trained in some manner."

She had just adjusted it a little.

"You're a philosopher," Morgan observed.

"Isn't everyone? In their own way?" Anna asked as she settled her stick at her side. "We all have different ideas on the way the world works and how we're supposed to work within it. And everyone believes their way is right."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" Anna huffed.

"How do _you_ think the world should work?" Morgan pushed.

"It doesn't really matter what I think," Anna said.

"But it does," Morgan insisted. "It matters, Anna."

She shrugged and tapped her fingers against the stick.

"When do we spar?" Anna asked, changing the subject.

Morgan shook his head, "If you're ready."

"Let's do it," Anna grinned.

The two bowed to each other and got into first position. Anna scanned him, analyzing his stance, but couldn't make heads or tails of what he planned to do. Without much to go on, Anna decided her best option was to wait for him to make the first move and respond accordingly.

It seemed he had the same intention as they began to circle each other. Finally, Morgan rushed forward, swinging straight into fourth position. Anna jumped back, bringing her stick up to block his strike. The force of their sticks meeting vibrated up her arms and numbed her hands

Morgan shifted back into first position. Anna shook out her hands and adjusted her grip.

"You've got good reflexes," Morgan said.

Anna planted her feet and swung her stick in a horizontal arch only for Morgan to swing his stick upwards, knocking hers off its course before it could make contact with his side. In the process, she lost her grip, the stick flying from her hands. She watched as it arched through the air and landed a few feet away. She spun back around to face Morgan just in time for his stick to land hard against her left side.

"Fuck!" She cried, jumping back and grabbing her side.

"Are you alright? I wasn't tryin' to hit you," he said quickly.

"No, I'm fine," she insisted, her voice tight, "Not your fault. I leaned into that. At least it wasn't my right side." She could already feel a bruise forming. "Let's keep going."

Morgan hesitated for a moment but nodded, getting back into position. Anna shook off the pain and picked her stick up off the ground, mimicking his stance. As the two sparred, she noticed how he was careful not to hit her again, but even still, she managed to smack herself plenty of times.

Finally, Morgan declared their session finished for the day and promised to return tomorrow. Anna reluctantly said goodbye and stood alone in the backyard. She hated being alone. It was easier pretending everything was okay than being alone.

Anna looked down at her stick. Standing straight, her stick resting beside her, Anna bowed to no one then shifted into first position, then second, then third and on she went until she'd gone through the movements several times, each time more fluid than the last. She focused on the way her muscles felt and on keeping her breathing steady.

It was like there was nothing else in the world.


	12. Chapter Eleven

"_No!"_

_ Anna threw her hand out, trying desperately to reach Lindsey as a sea of walkers converged on her, pulling her under._

_ She could hear her screams._

_ "We have to help her!" Anna shrieked, pulling against the hands that grabbed at her as she tried to jump into the ocean of corpses._

_ Lindsey's body floated to the surface, her face contorted in agony and terror. Then a second body appeared, blonde hair matted with blood—Beth. Her parents were next, their faces gaunt and twisted. Marley broke through the walkers, a hole in her chest. Finally, Anderson and Evan floated above the walkers, bloody holes in their foreheads. One by one, they all drifted away, out of Anna's reach._

_ "Annie."_

_ Anna went rigid, her body going cold as she slowly turned to face the voice. He stood there, hovering over her with that familiar smug look on his face._

_ "Don't be like that, Annie," he grinned._

_ Anna took a step back, stumbled over her feet, and fell. He snatched her wrist, holding her up as she dangled over the snarling pit of walkers._

_ His hazel eyes were soft and kind._

"_I've got you, Annie. I always will."_

Anna gasped, her eyes snapping open to a dark room. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. She stared at the curtains billowing in the light breeze, counting the ripples in the fabric, grounding herself; she had to remind herself of where she was and where she wasn't. She turned her head to see Daryl fast asleep beside her, lightly snoring.

Carefully, Anna slid out of bed and tiptoed to the door. Looking back at Daryl, she briefly considered waking him up and telling him everything. But, just like every night previous, Anna cast the thought aside and turned away from him. She slipped on the pair of jeans she had abandoned on the floor earlier, then quietly pulled on her shoes.

Her eyes fell on the stick she kept beside the bedroom door. Without further thought, Anna grabbed it and creeped out the door, past Jessie's room, and outside. The cool night air sent a shiver down her spine, but it eased the burning of her skin.

Leaning the stick against the porch, Anna started with her usual exercises; stretches, sit-ups, push-ups, and running around the yard several times. Finally, she picked up the stick and started running through the movements Morgan showed her.

The sun slowly rose, brightening the sky as she trained. She forced her mind to focus entirely on the task. She didn't want to think. She didn't want to feel.

* * *

For the next two weeks, Anna threw herself into training. Every morning she'd do her routine and run through the movements until Morgan arrived at her house to spar, continuing her training even after he left. By the end of the day, she'd be exhausted and sore, dragging herself through a shower and into bed. Most of the time, it wasn't until after dark that she finally stopped.

Today was no exception as she moved into third position, the sun already replaced by the moon and stars. She kept her breathing even and moved into the next position, imagining an assailant in front of her.

"Anna."

She froze, holding out her stick as though she had just struck her imaginary opponent before turning to see Jessie standing on the porch, watching her. Just past him, she could see Daryl and Carol standing and talking at the dining table, setting out plates.

"Carol brought us some casserole," Jessie said. "You should come eat."

Anna settled the stick at her side and wiped the sweat from her brow.

"I'll be right in, let me just—"

"Anna," Jessie interrupted. "You've been at it since morning. Come inside and eat." He ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration apparent in the set of his jaw. Anna squared her shoulders, but followed him inside.

* * *

Daryl, Anna, Jessie, and Carol sat around the table in silence, their forks scraping against their plates as they scooped casserole into their mouths.

"You should come see the wall—we expanded it to encompass the church," Carol said, breaking the silence. "And Maggie's started a garden."

"Good," Anna nodded, pushing her food around her plate before taking a bite. "Morgan says we're starting to run a little low on provisions. We should make a run soon."

"Rick and me are plannin' on goin' out again tomorrow," Daryl said through a mouthful of food.

Anna nodded.

"How's training going with Morgan?" Carol asked, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

"It's going well," Anna said, a small smile coming to her face.

She caught Daryl's eye for a moment before he looked back down to his plate, and she furrowed her brow.

"Jessie and Daryl tell me you train all the time—more than Morgan even," Carol said.

"I've got a lot of catching up to do," Anna shrugged.

"Catching up? Anna, it's been pretty much non-stop," Jessie insisted.

"It hasn't been—"

"You always do this! You take things to the extreme and lose yourself in them so you don't have to deal with your problems," Jessie burst out, his voice rising with each word.

The room became uncomfortably quiet as the siblings glared at each other.

"I guess I just don't see the point in it—" Carol said carefully. "Why are you training with Morgan? I thought you didn't agree with his philosophy."

"There's some things about it that make sense," Anna explained in a tight voice as she sat back in her chair.

"So, what? You gonna let killers walk now?" Daryl huffed, not looking up from his plate.

"No," Anna said quickly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Whatever your reasons," Jessie said, his voice only slightly calmer, "yes, there are worse ways to cope." He gave Anna a meaningful look. "But training yourself to exhaustion isn't healthy either."

"I appreciate all of the concern," Anna said, all emotion vacant from her voice as she stood from the table, "but this is what I have to do right now."

With that, she left all thoughts that didn't involve a shower and sleep to the three still at the table.

* * *

Daryl and Jessie sat on the back porch, watching as Carol disappeared down the dark street. Daryl pulled out a cigarette as he sat down on the top step.

He lit up, but Anna's brother remained standing, his hands in his pockets.

"You smoke?" Daryl asked.

"Been awhile," Jessie said.

"Want one?" Daryl offered, holding out his pack and the lighter.

Jessie hesitated a moment but ultimately accepted.

Daryl watched from the corner of his eye as Jessie held the stick between his lips and lit it. Something had passed between Anna and Jessie during dinner. Maybe it was just his imagination, but then again, Anna had a history of keeping things from people—including him.

Jessie returned the pack and lighter.

"Thanks."

Daryl nodded and tucked the items back in his pocket. He blew out a stream of a smoke.

"She's always done this sorta thing?" Daryl asked.

"In one way or another," Jessie replied slowly.

"Like how?"

Jessie shook his head, "That's for her to talk about whenever she's ready."

Daryl grunted, flicking some ash off the end of his cigarette.

"She will," Jessie said, "Just… don't give up on her."

To Daryl's surprise, he realized that Jessie was trying to be reassuring. It didn't make him feel much better.

"She just doesn't know how to deal with things," Jessie sighed, taking a long drag on his cigarette. "She used to write all the time to cope with stuff. Now…," he shook his head again and wiped at his brow. "I don't think I've seen her write anything outside of being Alexandria's Historian."

"She used to keep a journal," Daryl muttered. "Don't know why she stopped."

"I don't _why_ on a lot of things when it comes to Anna. I just—" he let out a huff. "I just wish she'd stop pretending everything was alright with her. She thinks we can't see it, but we do."

Daryl nodded, thinking of the performance she'd put on for him every morning, acting like she was just peachy, that the girl's death hadn't struck a chord in her. It seemed like everything had been put on hold after that.

Jessie let out a long sigh and put out his cigarette against the bottom of his boot.

"I'm headed in man—you good?" Jessie asked, starting towards the door.

"Yeah," Daryl muttered past the cigarette between his lips.

He listened to the door open and shut and sat alone in the cool night, letting the cigarette warm him.

Daryl didn't know what he was going to do with Anna.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Anna stood at the counter staring at her glass of water. She had taken one sip of it and set it down, her mouth drier than before. It was an odd but familiar feeling of emptiness—like seeing a friend for the first time in three years. Her skin tingled and her fingers twitched.

She stepped away from the glass of water and picked up her stick, ready to get back to training, having only stopped to quench her thirst. She stopped at the back door when three hard knocks came at the front door.

With a sigh, Anna dropped her head before squaring her shoulders. She crossed the room and pulled the door open to reveal Glenn holding two rifles.

"Come on," he said, pushing one of the rifles into Anna's hands before heading down the porch steps.

"I—"

"Not giving you a choice," he called over his shoulder. "Let's go."

Anna considered how she could simply shut the door and go back to training, but she was following Glenn down to the street before she could think much on it. The pair walked in silence to the front gates as Anna checked over her rifle. Eugene pulled the gate open for them, nodding them through.

"Good to see you, Anna," he called as they passed.

Anna nodded to him, slinging the rifle strap over her shoulder as Eugene slid the gate shut with a loud creak.

"What are we doing out here?" She asked, following Glenn as he veered off to the right.

"Perimeter walk," he said simply.

"Didn't Abraham and Sasha do their walk just a few hours ago?" Anna asked, mentally going over the schedule she, Rick, and Deanna had worked out.

"Yup."

"So why are we out here?" Anna repeated, a little irritated.

"'Cause I'm worried about you. We all are."

"I'm fine," Anna scoffed.

"Then why are you locking yourself in your house?" Glenn countered. "Jessie and Daryl told us how you spend all day training."

"Why is that such an issue for everyone," she huffed.

"Are you doing okay?" Glenn asked.

"I'm fine."

She could see Glenn's jaw tighten in her peripheral, but he said nothing and they kept walking.

"How's Maggie? Has she been really sick?"

"She's good—she hasn't been all that sick," Glenn said. "You should come by sometime."

Anna nodded absently, scanning the trees.

"How're you and Daryl?"

"Good," she said, pursing her lips as she thought back on the past few weeks; guilt coiled around her throat.

She knew she hadn't exactly been _present_ when it came to Daryl—or anyone. It was just so exhausting, acting like she was okay. She knew she wasn't—she knew the others probably saw that as well. Anna also knew that if she admitted to anyone that she wasn't okay, she'd have to deal with _everything_. It was like there was a flood, held back by a dam of sheer stubbornness.

There was a rustle in the brush and a twig snapped as five walkers shambled out of the woods. Anna went for her rifle, but hesitated before dropping it to the ground and readying her stick.

"What are you doing?" Glenn hissed, pulling his knife.

Anna said nothing as she swung her stick upwards into the chin of the nearest walker before whipping it around and smashing the stick into the side of its skull. A second walker neared. She considered herself lucky when she jabbed her stick just right and ran it through the walkers left eye socket. It stilled and collapsed, dragging her stick down with it.

The first walker was stumbling to its feet as she pulled the stick out and rammed the other end of it through its open mouth, pushing the walker back until it slammed against a tree, offering her enough resistance to push the stick through the base of the walker's skull.

When she tore the stick out of the walker's face and turned around, she saw Glenn downing the last walker, two laying at his feet.

"See," Anna panted as Glenn looked up at her. "I'm fine."

"Cut the shit," Glenn snapped. "We know you're not. No matter how hard you try to pretend you are."

Anna blinked at him, taken aback by the outburst. She bit her cheek and looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, dragging a hand through his black hair. "I'm just tired of you thinking you have to go through it alone."

"You're right," Anna admitted, shaking her head as she twisted the stick in her hand, grinding the end into the ground. "I'm angry and hurting and just…I've never really been good at letting myself be vulnerable. Before, my therapist would say I was 'deflecting'," she laughed.

"But it's okay to be vulnerable," Glenn insisted.

"Easy for you to say, Rhee," Anna scoffed. "You guys are strong, you bounce back. If I let myself feel it, I may not come back."

"We'd pull you back."

"Even if I have to lean on you?" Anna murmured before finally looking at him.

Glenn walked up to her and laid his hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"Hey, as long as you're still standing."

* * *

After their trip around the perimeter, Glenn allowed Anna to return home and to her training. She went through her normal routine and before she knew it, the day had ended and she found herself sitting on the front porch with a glass of water cupped between her hands. The night air was chill, and she pulled her sweater tighter around herself before taking a sip of her water. The front door opened and shut and Jessie sat down beside her, joining her in looking out at the darkened Alexandria.

"I'm sorry for cornering you at dinner," Jessie said after a long silence.

Anna didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say.

"I'm just worried about you. You've never been one to… cope very well," he explained carefully. "You used to write all the time, and that was good, but now—" he shook his head.

"I think being able to fight is a little more important than writing stories," Anna muttered, taking another sip of her water. "I get that you're worried—I get _why_ you're worried. But I'm okay. This is just what I need to do right now."

"I'm sorry, Anna, but what you need to do is face your grief. You're avoiding it," he countered. "Lindsey wasn't your fault."

"Stop," Anna snapped, getting to her feet as she set her glass on the top step. "I'm going for a walk and you're not going to follow me."

She started down the walkway, listening for Jessie's footsteps, satisfied when she didn't hear him following her. She continued on down the street, content with being alone.

Anna wasn't walking anywhere in particular, wasn't paying attention to where her feet took her until she came to a stop at the parting of some tall bushes not far from the front gates. She peered between the slowly dying greenery and saw long, rectangular patterns of disturbed dirt and patches of yellow grass.

Her eyes landed on the five freshest graves, picked out the carved names of each person in the dark. _Ron_, _Sam_, _Jessie_, _Deanna_, _Lindsey_.

The sound of the front gate creaking open pulled her attention away from the graves and she saw a white hatchback pulling into Alexandria. It had to be Daryl and Rick returning from their supply run.

Anna took a last glance at Lindsey's name before turning on her heel and jogging over to the car. Rick rolled down the passenger window as she approached.

"Long time no see," he greeted as she leaned into the window.

"How was the run?" she asked, craning her neck to see Daryl in the backseat with a strange, unconscious man. "Uh… I thought you were picking up supplies?"

"Hop in, give us a hand with him," Rick said.

Anna cocked her brow but popped the passenger door open and climbed in. Rick detailed the events of the day, from finding the truck full of supplies to that truck ending up at the bottom of a pond.

"And so, your answer to all of that was to bring him here?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder to look at the sleeping man. "How long has he been out?"

"A few hours," Rick replied.

"I wanted to tie him up in a tree," Daryl grumbled.

"We couldn't just leave him," Rick insisted.

"He's got a community," Anna mused.

"What makes you say that?" Rick asked as they pulled up to the infirmary

"He's too clean," she shrugged, getting out of the car and heading towards the front door while Rick and Daryl pulled the man from the back and carried him up the steps.

Anna knocked on the front door until a light turned on and Denise and Tara opened the door.

"Sorry to wake you up," Rick sighed.

"Who is this?" Denise asked.

"Come on man, he's heavy," Daryl grunted. "Oh, that thing, uh, didn't work out. It's this asshole's fault. Sorry," Daryl said quickly, clearly meaning it for Denise.

Anna furrowed her brow.

"Lay him on the bed," Denise instructed, stepping aside.

"Alright, take a look at him," Daryl huffed as he and Rick carried the man inside. "He ain't stayin', though."

"Who is that?" Tara whispered to Anna as she stepped inside and shut the door.

"Apparently his friends call him Jesus," Anna whispered back.

"Huh," Tara said before straightening. "It's good to see you," she said, resting her hand on Anna's shoulder.

Anna tensed a moment but quickly relaxed and smiled at the woman before turning back to the others.

"Is he okay?" Tara asked.

"Just a concussion it looks like. He'll be fine," Denise assured.

"Alright, let's take him to the house," Rick said, grabbing hold of the man's legs as Daryl hoisted up his shoulders.

Anna opened the front door, allowing them to leave first.

"Goodnight," she said to Denise and Tara as she left.

"Don't be a stranger," Tara called.

Daryl and Rick carried the man across the street and down a few houses, Anna trailing behind them until they neared the unfinished house they'd been using as a makeshift jail. She held the doors open for them so that they could dump the man on the floor mattress.

"We should leave him some water," Anna suggested.

"I'll go grab some," Rick said, heading out of the room to leave Daryl and Anna alone.

It was quiet for a while, and Anna shifted on her feet, wondering what to say to break the tension.

"You left the house," Daryl observed.

"I—" Anna cut herself off. "Glenn—he took me on a perimeter walk."

"Good," Daryl nodded, crouching down and checking the knots on Jesus' wrists.

"I'm sorry," Anna muttered.

"For what?"

"I just—" she sighed. "I haven't been present. I know that, and I'm sorry."

Daryl said nothing as he stood up. The door opened and Rick returned with a glass of water in hand. He set it down on the ground beside the man along with a note.

"We'll see," Rick said as he backed away from the man. "It's pretty stupid of us to go out there, isn't it?"

"Yup," Daryl said, heading for the door. "Do it again tomorrow?"

"Yup," Rick echoed, following him out.

Anna sighed and looked down at the man called Jesus before finally following the men out.

Daryl was leaned against the wall while Rick was headed down the street towards his house. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and stuck it between his lips.

"I'm keepin' watch till someone can take over. You go on home—get some rest," he said, the cigarette bouncing between his lips as he spoke.

"I can keep you company," Anna offered, pulling her sweater tighter around her body, ready to settle in beside him.

"You don't have to," Daryl said, shaking his head.

"I want to," she insisted, leaning against the wall, their arms pressed against each other.

Daryl sighed and tucked the cigarette into his breast pocket.

"You can smoke," Anna assured.

"Nah, I'm good."

"You've never smoked around me," Anna pointed out.

"You've got asthma," Daryl huffed as he dropped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "That've been stupid."

Anna let herself smile as she looked at her feet. "Thank you," she said, her skin warming.

Daryl wasn't the most affectionate man she'd ever met. At least, not openly. He showed he cared in ways you had to be looking for to notice. She _had_ noticed. The thought of that made her smile, but it also made the guilt she felt that much worse and her smile fell away from her face.

Hesitantly, Anna pressed the back of her hand against Daryl's, her fingers moving over his. He turned his hand and laced their fingers together. She glanced over at him and saw that his head was still leaned back and his eyes were still closed.

She looked back to her feet and relished the feel of her hand in his. They stood there like that for a long time in silence—every once and a while he'd squeeze her hand and she'd smile.

"Hey Daryl, Anna. I'm your relief," came a deep voice from the right.

They both looked up, their hands springing apart as if they'd been caught doing something they weren't supposed to. Tobin stood there, grinning at them with a rifle over his shoulder.

"Thanks," Daryl said, pushing off the wall and patting him on the shoulder. "Come on," he said to Anna, gesturing with his head for her to follow him.

"Have a good night," Anna said as she passed.

The two walked down the dark street, Daryl's longer legs carrying him faster towards home. Anna kept pace as best she could, wondering why he seemed to be in such a hurry as they entered the quiet house. Jessie had left the hall light on, but his door was shut.

Daryl closed them in their room and disappeared inside the bathroom. Anna heard the shower turn on and decided to get ready for bed. She picked out her sleeping shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, having already showered after getting back from her perimeter walk with Glenn.

She stripped out of her clothes and picked up her shirt, then looked in the mirror hanging on the wall beside the door. In the dim light of the bedside lamps, Anna could see the dark scar that ran horizontally along her right side. She ran her fingers over it. Her other hand reached up and touched the scar that ran from her right temple to the top of her cheekbone.

There was a stinging along her bottom lids.

Her hand fell to her thigh and she felt the small bumps of scar tissue scattered there. Her skin tingled and her fingers twitched.

The bathroom door swung open and Daryl stepped out as he flicked off the light. He walked up behind her and rested his hand between her shoulder blades. A shiver went up her spine at the feel of his calloused fingers running up to the back of her neck. With his other hand he turned her around to face him.

Feeling the tears fighting to escape, Anna pressed herself into Daryl. She stretched her neck, standing on her toes to kiss him. He kissed her back, hard and slow, letting his hands explore her near naked body. It was the most she had ever allowed him to see.

Frustrated with the pain in her chest, Anna reached down and started pushing his sweats down.

"Slow down," he muttered into her lips.

"No," she replied breathlessly as she shoved him back towards the bed.

He fell against the mattress and she climbed on top of him, letting her hands slide up his shirt until she was pulling it off. She could feel him under her. His hands found her waist and she knew he didn't want her to stop.

She didn't have to think about anything else but him.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Anna lay in bed, the covers wrapped around her body. She stared at the darkened ceiling, waiting for her body to relax. Daryl was fast asleep, his breathing slow and steady. She envied him.

A pounding at the door sent a jolt through Anna. She and Daryl jumped out of bed as the pounding continued. Anna threw her clothes on and rushed out of the bedroom, grabbing her gun from atop the dresser. As she raced down the hallway, Jessie stumbled out of his room, pulling on a boot while hopping forward.

She tore the front door open to see Abraham's imposing figure standing in the doorway, his fist poised to continue his attack on the blue wood.

"What the hell is going on?" Anna asked, squinting up at him.

"The Messiah has risen," Abraham huffed.

"The fuck?"

"That Jesus dude. He's gone," he elaborated. "So, turn your shirt around and let's go. Where's lover boy?"

Anna looked down and saw that her shirt was, in fact, on backwards.

"How long's he been gone?" Daryl asked as he approached, pulling his vest on. Jessie was right behind him, standing straight now that he had both shoes on.

"Not a clue," Abraham said, leading them down the porch steps. "Tobin went in to check on him and saw he'd pulled a Houdini."

Anna pulled her arms into her shirt and spun it around her torso as she bounded down the steps after the three long-legged men.

"So, any idea where our resurrected friend went? Or how he got out?" Jessie asked.

"By the grace of God. Shit, we don't know," Abraham grumbled.

"Rick know yet?' Daryl asked.

"Not yet, on the way there now," Abraham assured.

They rushed down the street, other Alexandrians doing their own search of the town for the missing man.

As they neared Rick's house, the four met up with Glenn and Maggie and saw that the front door was open. They sprinted across the lawn and up the porch stairs, bursting through the front door. On the upstairs landing, they could see Carl holding a gun to Jesus's head. The group bounded for the stairs and aimed their guns as well.

"It-it's okay," Michonne assured at the sight of them.

"You said we should talk," Rick said, looking to Jesus. "So, let's talk."

* * *

"So, how'd you get out?" Rick asked as the group gathered around the dining table. Anna sat beside Glenn, analyzing the stranger in front of her.

"One guard can't cover two exits," Jesus started. "Or third floor windows. Knots untie and locks get picked. Entropy comes from order, right?"

"Right," Daryl said, hovering over the man with a gun in his hand.

"I checked out your arsenal," Jesus said, adjusting his posture. "I haven't seen anything like that in a long time," he praised. "You're well-equipped, but your provisions are low. Very low for the amount of people you have. 54?"

"More than that," Maggie corrected.

"Well," Jesus said. "I appreciate the cookie. My compliments to the chef."

"Yeah, she ain't here," Daryl snapped.

"Look, we got off to a bad start," Jesus said, looking between Daryl and Rick. "But we're on the same side—the living side. You and Rick had every reason to leave me out there, but you didn't." He turned to the rest of the group. "I'm from a place that's a lot like this one. Part of my job is searching out other settlements to trade with. I took your truck because my community needs things, and both of you looked like trouble. I was wrong. You're good people. And this is a good place. I think our communities may be in a position to help each other."

"Do you have food?" Glenn asked.

"We've started to raise livestock. We scavenge, we grow. Everything from tomatoes to sorghum."

"And why should we believe you?" Anna asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'll show you," Jesus said. "If we take a car, I can take you back home in a day, and you can all see for yourselves who we are and what we have to offer."

"Wait," Maggie interjected. "You're looking for _more_ settlements. You mean you're already trading with other groups?"

Jesus leaned back in his chair and gave them all a knowing smile.

"Your world's about to get a whole lot bigger."

* * *

Anna re-checked her pack as she walked to the door, making sure she had everything she needed.

"You ready?" She called as she paused at the front door.

Jessie appeared from the hall, a pack and rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing her stick from beside the door and handing it to her. "Don't forget this."

Anna took hold of it after slinging her pack over her shoulder. She wondered if, for this mission, she should switch it out for a rifle. But she reminded herself that this was meant to be peaceful, and she still had her 9mm.

With a final nod, they exited the house and started down the street.

"You're sure you want to go?" Jessie asked.

"I'm sure," Anna said firmly. "I've been locked away long enough."

"You did that to yourself," Jessie pointed out.

"I know. It's just—" she took a breath. "It's just what I needed to do. I'm good now," she assured.

"Are you?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Anna huffed.

"Let's chew up some asphalt!" Abraham called, climbing into the RV.

Jessie climbed in after him, followed by Rick, Michonne, Jesus, Glenn, and Maggie. Anna paused at the door as Daryl approached.

"Ya bringin' that with ya everywhere now?" He asked, gesturing to her stick.

"It's an option," Anna shrugged.

Daryl shook his head and gestured for her to enter the RV. She walked up the steps and took a seat towards the back; Daryl sat beside her.

The engine roared to life and Rick hit the gas, pulling them out of the gates and down the road.

As they travelled, Anna looked at the RV wall, where bullet holes were scattered. She ran her fingers over the holes. They were there because Morgan had refused to kill those people. She wondered if she'd be able to make the same kind of choice.

"So why do they call you Jesus?"

Anna turned her head to look between her brother and Jesus.

"I guess because they think I look like him," Jesus shrugged.

"Jesus wasn't white," Anna blurted out. causing everyone in the RV to look at her. "He wasn't," she insisted. "He was born in Bethlehem, which is in Palestine."

"Look, I didn't choose the nickname," Jesus said, raising his hands in surrender. "They called me that 'cause I have long hair and a beard. My real name is Paul."

"What would you rather be called?" Anna asked, tilting her head to the side. "It's not a trap," she assured. "I'd just rather call you by what you prefer."

"Honestly? I don't really care, I'll answer to either," he said.

"I'm calling you Paul," Anna declared, nodding definitively. "If only for _Jimmy Neutron_."

"Who the hell is Jimmy Neutron?" Daryl asked.

"It was a cartoon I used to watch," Anna explained. "After the end credits this three-eyed monkey would show up in front of a tropical backdrop and say 'Hi, I'm Paul,'" she said, mimicking the monkey's voice as best she could.

Glenn laughed, "I remember that!"

"Did you ever see that cop at the end of _American Dad_?" Anna asked, scooting forward to address Glenn.

"Bye! Have a beautiful time!" She, Glenn, and Jessie all said in unison.

"This some kind of cult shit?" Daryl grumbled.

"No, I remember the _American Dad_ one," Abraham said, holding up his index finger.

"Cartoons? Maybe Carl watched them," Rick mused.

"I hope he didn't watch _American Dad_," Anna said quickly. "That one wasn't really… _appropriate_ for little kids."

"Yeah, lots of adult themes," Jessie agreed.

"In a cartoon?" Rick asked.

"Adults can enjoy cartoons," Michonne said.

"I remember when you wanted to be an animator," Jessie said, looking to Anna.

"Really?" Maggie asked. "Were you any good at drawing?"

"I was alright. I preferred writing over drawing the same thing over a thousand times in _slightly_ different positions just to get one minute of animation."

"Jesus," Abraham said.

"Yes?" Paul asked.

Everyone snorted in laughter. As it died down, Rick came to a squealing halt.

"Yo, Rick. What's goin' on?" Daryl asked, pushing the blinds aside to peer out the window.

"We got a crash ahead," Rick announced. "Looks like it just happened."

"It's one of ours," Paul said, looking out the front window.

Everyone spilled out of the RV and gathered around the overturned car; walkers were caught in the wheels.

"If this is a trick, it won't end well for you," Rick warned Paul.

"My people are in trouble. They don't—" Paul huffed. "We don't have a lot of fighters. I know how it looks, but I'll play it out. Can I borrow a gun?"

"No," Daryl snapped. "We got tracks right here."

The group followed the tracks all the way to an office building. Rick beat his fist against the glass door, holding his Python out in front of him.

"They gotta be in there," Paul said.

"We movin' in or what?" Abraham asked.

"How do we know this ain't firecrackers in a trash can?" Daryl sneered.

"You don't," Paul sighed.

"We'll get your people," Rick assured. "You're stayin' here with one of us."

Paul turned to Michonne, hoping for some back up.

"That's the deal," she said.

"Will you stay?" Glenn asked, walking over to Maggie as the rest of the group gathered to enter the building.

"Yeah. Y'all go. Just be careful," Maggie said as Rick handcuffed Paul.

"Yeah, we're gonna be careful."

"Just hurry," Paul said.

"Anna, you stay here too," Glenn said.

Anna went to protest before he stepped closer to her.

"Please," he said. "I don't want her out here alone."

Anna glanced between Paul and Maggie before looking back to Glenn and nodding her agreement.

"You hear me whistle, shoot him," Rick instructed.

"I will," Maggie assured.

One by one, the rest of the group filed into the building, weapons drawn.

Anna leaned against her stick, much the way Morgan usually did, and kept her eyes on their surroundings while Maggie watched Paul.

"You guys are going to like Hilltop, you'll see," Paul said, cutting into the quiet.

Anna glanced at him before looking away.

"You two aren't much for small talk, are you?" He asked.

"Not much to talk about," Maggie said. "Not until the others get back."

"They'll be back," Paul insisted. "This isn't a trap."

"If it were, would you tell us?" Anna asked, watching as a walker shambled out of the woods on the other side of the road.

"That's fair," Paul relented. "You've just gotta trust me."

"Trust a stranger," Anna snorted. "_Okay_."

Anna started towards the walker, adjusting the stick in her hand as she neared. With one fluid motion, Anna slashed the stick through the air and across the walkers' face, knocking it to the ground before running the end of the stick through its eye socket. The walker taken care of, Anna returned to Maggie and Paul.

"I was wondering what that stick was for," Paul said.

The sound of a door opening pulled their attention back to the office building as the others filed out alongside four strangers. Maggie lowered her gun and Rick undid Paul's handcuffs.

"We got your people. Now let's get to Hilltop," Rick said.

* * *

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Anna sat squished between Daryl and Jessie as the RV was filled to capacity. She glanced around at the Hilltop survivors, taking note of their shaken but overall steady demeanor—aside from one.

"You okay, Freddie?" Paul asked the man who seemed to be staring at nothing.

Freddie shook his head and cleared his throat.

"For a second back there, just when I thought he was gonna—" he glanced at Abraham before looking away. "I saw my wife. She died before all this," his voice broke as he spoke. "Just when I thought it was over, there she was," he laughed. "Clear as day."

Anna looked sidelong at Daryl, who didn't seem to be paying much attention to the conversation.

The RV came to a stop and Rick revved the engine.

"Damn it," Rick said. "A storm must've passed through. We're stuck."

"No worries," Paul assured. "We're here."

Paul led the group out of the RV.

"That's us," he said as everyone stared up at the imposing wall. "That's the Hilltop."

He gestured to the looming wall at the top of the hill. The group admired it for a moment before following Paul and his people to the front gates.

"Stop right there!"

Anna froze, her hand reaching for her gun. The others raised their weapons and aimed at the two men standing on either side of the front gate. She had to look twice before realizing they were holding spears, not rifles.

"Whoa!" Paul called, standing between them and holding out his hands.

"You gonna make us?" Daryl asked.

"Jesus, what the hell is this?" One man asked.

"Open the gates, Cal. Freddie's hurt," Paul said before turning to Rick. "Look, sorry about these guys. They get antsy standing up there all day doing nothing."

He said the last bit mockingly and loud enough for the guards to hear.

"They give up the weapons. Then we'll open the gates," Cal said.

"Why don't you come down here and get 'em?" Daryl taunted.

"Gentlemen—" Dr. Harlan interrupted, stepping forward. "Look, we vouch for these people, alright? They saved us out there."

"Lower the spears," Paul ordered.

"Look, I'm not takin' any chances," Rick said. "Tell your guy Gregory to come out here."

"No," Paul snapped. "Don't you see what just happened? I'm letting you keep your guns," he insisted. "Look, we ran out of ammo months ago. I like you people. I trust you. Trust us," he said, glancing at Anna before turning back to the gates. "Open the gates, Cal."

The two men disappeared and, after a moment, the gates began to squeal as they slowly swung open. Everyone lowered their weapons and followed Paul inside.

Anna's scanned their surroundings. Hilltop looked as though someone had mashed a medieval village and a modern trailer park together and dropped the results on a colonial mansion. As they walked further up the hill, a chicken ran past her feet.

"There was a materials yard for a power company nearby. That's how we put up the walls," Paul explained. "A lot of people came from a FEMA camp. Trailers came with them."

Anna recalled the FEMA camp they'd visited in Atlanta, and a shiver ran up her spine.

"How did people find out about this place?" Michonne asked.

Paul turned to the colonial mansion.

"That's called Barrington House. The family that owned it gave it to the state in the '30s. The state turned it into a living history museum. Every elementary school for fifty miles used to come here for field trips." He shrugged. "The place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it'd keep running after the modern world broke down." He pointed at the dome at the top of the house. "Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction. It's perfect for security. Come on. I'll show you inside."

Upon entry, Anna's eyes widened. It was indeed a piece of living history. She had that familiar urge to look at every piece of furniture and decoration and admire the woodwork—an urge she hadn't had since she was in school.

"Good gracious, Ignatius," Abraham said from beside her.

"Most of the rooms have been converted to living spaces," Paul said. "Even the ones that weren't bedrooms."

"People live here and the trailers?" Rick asked.

"We plan to build. There's babies being born," he said.

Anna glanced at Maggie and Glenn.

A set of double doors to her left swung open to admit an older, balding man in business attire. He did not look like a man who liked dirt.

"Jesus. You're back," he said, sounding almost surprised. "With guests." He stepped out of what looked like an office, followed by a short young woman with deep red hair holding a book.

"Everyone, this is Gregory," Paul introduced. "He keeps the trains running around here."

"I'm the boss," Gregory elaborated.

"And that's Emma. She keeps Gregory running," Paul said, pointing to the woman.

Emma waved, but said nothing.

"Well, I'm Rick. We have a community—"

"Why don't y'all go get cleaned up, hmm?" Gregory interrupted.

"We're fine," Rick assured, a clip to his voice.

"Jesus will show you where you can get washed up. Then come back down here when you're ready," Gregory went on, almost ignoring Rick. "It's hard to keep this place clean."

Rick stared at him for a moment.

"Yeah," Rick finally said. "Sure."

"Follow me," Jesus said, leading them up the stairs.

Anna took up the back of the line, wanting to take in everything as much as she could. As she finally started up the stairs, Anna glanced behind her to see Gregory and Emma speaking in hushed voices. A knot of anxiety formed in her chest, and she gripped her stick a little tighter.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Anna tilted her head to the side and leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the painting hanging over a bookshelf. She liked the way the brush strokes had provided texture to the autumn landscape that was portrayed.

"Excuse me," came a soft voice.

Anna turned to see the red-headed woman, Emma, standing there, a notebook in her arms.

"I just wanted to grab a book," she said, pointing at the bookshelf.

"Oh, sorry," Anna muttered, stepping aside to allow her access.

Emma bent at the waist and scanned the titles before finding the one she was looking for and pulling it out.

"Thank you," Emma said turning to leave.

"What kind of books do you have here?" Anna asked before she could think better of it.

Emma paused and turned to face Anna again.

"Most of them are older novels like _Little Women_, _Hard Times_, _Pride and Prejudice_," she explained. "There's about three books from this decade—kids' books from the FEMA camp."

"I had to annotate _Hard Times _at university," Anna grimaced.

"I did _Tess of the d'Urbervilles_," Emma laughed.

"That's a long one," Anna said, raising her eyebrows. "I barely made it through _Hard Times_. I applaud you."

Emma smiled. "So, you were studying English?"

Anna nodded.

"Did you manage to graduate before the world went to hell?" She asked. "Not that a degree is exactly helpful nowadays."

"I had two more semesters left," Anna sighed. "All that money, wasted. But I guess the whole concept of money doesn't really matter anymore."

"I don't think it was wasted," Emma said. "We learned a lot with the time we had."

"Shakespeare doesn't keep you warm and fed," Anna pointed out.

"No," Emma agreed, "but being able to escape from all the bullshit of the world helps make things a little easier."

It was quiet for a moment, both standing awkwardly as they waited for the other to say something.

"So… what do you do here exactly?" Anna asked, pushing her hair over her shoulder.

"I mostly record things for Gregory," Emma shrugged. "Day to day stuff."

"Kind of like what I do," Anna nodded. "I interviewed everyone in our community and recorded their experiences."

"Oh? That sounds like a good idea," Emma mused. "Maybe I—"

The office doors opened and Maggie stepped out, shutting the doors behind her.

"Is he always such an ass?" Maggie asked as soon as she saw Emma.

"Yes," Emma said simply.

"What happened?" Rick asked from the other side of the room.

"He won't trade, says we don't have anything he wants," Maggie explained, clearly agitated. "How do y'all not need ammo?"

"So, what now?" Abraham asked, rising from his seat.

"We want to generate trade," Paul insisted. "Gregory does. But ammo isn't something we urgently need."

"Well, how's that?" Daryl grunted, pacing beside her.

"The walls hold," Emma said. "And we just got in more medicine."

"Gregory wants the best deal possible," Paul said.

"Yeah, well, we want things, too," Daryl snapped. Anna reached out and placed a hand on his wrist to stop his advance on Paul.

"We need food," Rick said. "We came all this way, we're gonna get it," Rick said nonchalantly.

"We will talk to him," Paul said glancing at Emma. "And we will work this out. Circumstances change. We're doing well now, and you will next. We'll make him understand that. Can you give us a few days?"

"We can," Michonne said.

"Yeah," Rick agreed.

The front door swung open and a harried man walked in. Gregory emerged from his office.

"What's wrong?" Gregory asked.

"They're back," the man said.

Gregory nodded to Emma and Paul and everyone filed out of the house. Outside, two men and a woman were walking up the hill.

"Nathan," Gregory called. "What happened to everybody else? Where's Tim and Marsha?"

"They're dead," the bearded man at the front said.

"Negan?" Gregory asked.

Anna furrowed her brow.

"Yeah."

"We had a deal," Gregory said, hands on his hips.

"He said it wasn't enough," the man in the maroon sweater explained. "Was the drop light?" He asked.

"No," Gregory insisted.

"They still have Craig," the woman said.

"They said they'd keep him alive, return him to us, if I deliver a message to you," Nathan said, approaching Gregory.

"So, tell me," Gregory said.

"I'm sorry," the man said, placing his hand on Gregory's shoulder before plunging his knife into his stomach.

Paul and Emma rushed forward to catch Gregory as he fell, while Rick and Michonne shoved the bearded man away.

"Get off of me!" The bearded man shouted, pushing the two back. "I had to!" He insisted as he swung at Rick.

Rick caught his arm and swung him around, dropping him to the ground before crouching over him and slamming his fists into the man's face. The man in maroon attempted to pull Rick away, but Abraham tackled him.

Anna readied her stick and looked between Rick and Abraham struggling with their assailants; Daryl charged past her to help Abraham.

"Hey!" Glenn called, pulling his gun as he ran towards Rick.

"Stay back!" The man warned, holding a knife to Rick's throat. "Anybody who tries to stop me is killing my brother!"

"Drop it," Michonne ordered, ready to pull her sword. The man turned his attention to Michonne, and Rick seized the opportunity to drive his own knife into the man's neck. Blood seeped out onto Rick's arm and splattered his face.

He shoved the man off and stood, then noticed everyone staring at his blood covered form.

"What?"

"Nathan!" The woman cried, punching Rick across the face before Michonne shoved her to the ground.

"Don't," Michonne hissed.

"Drop it now!" Cal demanded, approaching with his fellow guard, spears aimed at Rick.

"I don't think I will," Rick sneered, pulling his Python.

"Everyone, this is over!" Paul said, rushing to get between Rick and the others. "It's over. Nathan was our friend, but let's not pretend he was anything more than a coward who attacked us. He did this. And these people stopped him."

"What can I do?" Rick asked.

"Put the gun away," Emma said. "You've done enough."

Rick lowered his gun.

"You need to know that things aren't as simple as they might seem, "Paul said. "Just give me some time."

Anna went to Daryl and checked him over for injury.

"You alright?" She asked.

"I'm good," Daryl assured.

She looked to Nathan, sprawled out on the ground in a pool of his blood, the woman crying over his body. Then she looked at Jessie and wondered what she would do if someone had taken him or Daryl.

She thought she might have done the same as the dead man.

* * *

Anna stood at the window beside Daryl, twisting her stick in her hands as she watched Paul and Emma enter the room.

"Dr. Carson was able to patch Gregory up," Paul said. "He's in pain, but he'll live."

"So, what happens now?" Michonne asked.

"Things like that don't usually happen here, but, uh, it's settled," Paul assured.

"We heard the name Negan," Rick said. "A while back, Daryl and Abraham had a run-in with his men. Who is he?"

"Negan's the head of a group of people he calls the Saviors," Paul started. "As soon as the walls were built, the Saviors showed up. They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss. They made a lot of demands, even more threats. And he killed one of us—"

"Rory," Emma said. "He was 16 years old."

"They beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand, right off the bat. Gregory's not exactly good at confrontation. He's not the leader I would've chosen, but he helped make this place what it is, and the people like him."

"He made the deal," Maggie said.

"Half of everything. Our supplies, our crops, our livestock, it goes to the Saviors," Paul nodded.

"And what do you get in return?" Glenn asked.

"They don't attack this place. They don't kill us," Emma shrugged.

"Why not just kill them?" Daryl asked.

"Most of the people here don't even know how to fight, even if we had ammo," Paul sighed.

"Well, how many people does Negan have?" Rick asked.

"We don't know," Paul said.

"We've seen groups as big as twenty," Emma elaborated.

"Now, hold up," Daryl said, pushing off the wall. "So, they show up, they kill a kid, and you give them half of everything? These dicks just got a good story. The boogeyman, he ain't shit."

"Well, how do you know?" Paul asked.

"A month ago, we took his guys out PDQ," Abraham shrugged. "Left them in pieces and puddles."

"You know, we'll do it," Daryl announced. "If we go get your man back, kill Negan, take out his boys, will you hook us up? We want food, medicine, and one of them cows."

Paul looked from Daryl to Rick.

"Confrontation's never been something we've had trouble with," Rick said.

"I'll take it to Gregory," Paul said.

He headed out of the office, followed by Emma.

"They have food," Rick said, turning to the window facing the front of the house. "We don't. We don't have enough of anything. Except us. What we can do."

"So, that's the trade?" Anna asked.

"It's gonna cost us something," Maggie said.

"Anyone who doesn't want to do this, I won't make you," Rick said, turning to face the group, looking specifically at Anna for a moment.

Anna thought he would say more, but he turned away and began speaking quietly to Michonne. Daryl paced back to the window and leaned against it.

"We need that food," Daryl said quietly.

"I know."

He glanced down at her thoughtfully.

"I didn't think you'd go for it."

"You just said it. We need the food. It's them or us."

Daryl nodded, his jaw set.

"What do you think of these people?" Anna asked.

"Gregory's a prick," he muttered, and Anna snorted. "The rest are alright, I guess. We could help each other. And you? What do you make of 'em?"

"I talked to the redhead, Emma. She seems nice," Anna shrugged.

Daryl hummed in response when the door opened. Paul and Emma had returned.

"Gregory's up. He wants to talk—" Rick stepped forward. "To Maggie," Paul said, holding his hand up. "He wants to talk to Maggie."

"You got this," Glenn assured Maggie.

"Deanna was right about you," Rick added as Maggie walked past.

Anna watched as the woman left to negotiate their terms.

* * *

"Even Negan didn't get this much up front," Paul said as he carried a basket full of supplies into the RV.

They were loading up half of everything Hilltop had to offer. Anna was impressed with what Maggie had managed to get out of the deal, to say the least. She passed the bin she was carrying through the RV door to Glenn before turning to find Emma standing just behind her.

"Here," the woman said, holding out a covered wicker basket. "Thought you might like these," she explained quickly.

Anna took the basket from Emma, surprised at the weight. Balancing it in one arm, Anna lifted the lid to look inside; books. There was nothing but books inside the basket.

"These were some of my favorite books here," Emma said when Anna looked up at her.

"Thank you," Anna said. "I'll, uh—I'll return the favor," she assured.

"You don't have to," Emma said.

"I want to," Anna insisted.

"Well, you'll get your chance, I guess," Emma said. "I'm coming with you guys."

"Oh?" Anna asked, finally noticing the pack on her back as she led Emma inside the RV.

"Yeah," Emma said, following her. "This is something I want to be a part of."

There was a light in her green eyes that reminded her of someone—someone she didn't want to think about.

"So, did you graduate?" Anna asked, changing the subject as she set the basket on the ground beside the rest of the supplies.

"Yeah. Just before it all went to hell," Emma said. "Hey, so I was thinking—I'd like to do that interview thing you told me about. What questions do you ask people?"

"I'll show you all of my interview stuff when we get back to Alexandria," Anna answered when everyone started climbing into the RV and getting comfortable. They were going to be squished the whole way to Alexandria. Anna remained standing as Emma took a seat and the RV started up.

"You gonna sit?" Daryl asked, sitting in his usual spot and taking up the last of the seating.

"I figured I could stand," Anna said.

"Sit your ass down," Daryl huffed, about to pull himself to his feet.

Anna pursed her lips, ready to protest, but then but she had a better idea. Without warning, Anna plopped down in Daryl's lap—careful not to hurt him as he fell back—and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"You're right, this is much better," Anna teased.

There was light laughter all around.

"Get off," Daryl growled.

"I don't think I will," Anna hummed as the RV lurched forward. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek for good measure.

Contrary to his portrayed attitude about the situation, Daryl laid his hand on Anna's knee as they traveled down the hill and hit the road, his other hand finding her lower back. Anna smiled and leaned into him, letting her right hand drop to the hand on her knee so that she could play with his calloused fingers.

Glenn passed a photograph to Michonne, who smiled at it before passing it to Anna. She looked at it, angling it so that Daryl could also see the black and white still of Maggie's womb before they passed it to Abraham.

No matter what was happening now, that little white dot was their future.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

"We can work with the Hilltop. Maggie hammered out a deal," Rick explained, standing at the front of the church with Paul and Emma standing off to the side. "We're getting food—eggs, butter, fresh vegetables. But they're not just giving it away. These Saviors, they almost killed Sasha, Daryl, and Abraham on the road."

Anna scooted closer to Daryl in the pew.

"Now, sooner or later they would've found us, just like those Wolves did, just like Jesus did. They woulda killed someone or some of us. And then they would try to own us. And we would try to stop them. But by then, in that kind of fight, low on food, we could lose," Rick warned.

"This is the only way to be sure, as sure as we can get, that we win," he continued. "And we have to win. We do this for the Hilltop, it's how we keep this place. It's how we feed this place. This needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here's your chance to say your piece."

There was a length of silence as they waited for someone to speak up. Anna was more or less content with the way things were about to go. She wished there was another way, but they didn't have much of a choice.

"You're sure we can do it?" Morgan asked from behind her. She tilted her head so she could see him. "We can beat them?"

"What this group has done, what we've learned, what we've become, all of us—" Rick gestured around the church. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Then all we have to do is just tell 'em that," Morgan said.

"Well, they don't compromise," Rick explained.

"This isn't a compromise," Morgan insisted. "It's a choice you give 'em. It's a way out, for them and for us."

"We try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our safety," Rick said. "No, we have to come for them before they come for us. We can't leave them alive."

"Where there's life, there's possibility."

"Of them hitting us."

"We're not trapped in this," Morgan said, looking to the room. "None of you are trapped in this."

"Morgan, they always come back," Rick said.

"Come back when they're dead, too," Morgan countered.

"Yeah, we'll stop them. We have before."

"I'm not talkin' about the walkers."

Anna ticked her jaw, knowing all too well how accurate Morgan's statement was.

"Morgan wants to talk to them first. I think that would be a mistake," Rick said. "But it's not up to me. I'll talk to the people still at home. I'll discuss it with the people on guard now, too, but who else wants to approach the Saviors, talk to them first?"

Aaron pulled himself to his feet and looked firmly at Rick.

"What happened here, we won't let that happen again." He looked to Morgan. "I won't."

"Looks like it's settled," Rick shrugged. "We know exactly what this is. We don't shy from it, we live. We kill them all. We don't all have to kill," Rick said, starting down the center aisle to leave. "But if people are gonna stay here, they do have to accept it."

With his exit, almost everyone rose from the pews and started home. Daryl got to his feet.

"I'll see you at home," Anna said as she stood, prepared to head to Emma and Paul.

"Alright," Daryl nodded, brushing his hand against her arm as he passed her.

Anna smiled at the touch and started to step out of the pew when Morgan approached her.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

"There was nothing to say," Anna sighed.

"You know this is wrong," Morgan said, almost pleading. "You know there's another way."

"What I know," Anna huffed, "is that these people—these _Saviors_—kill first, demand everything after."

"So, you kill them first. Before there's even a chance that things might be different. Is that who you want to be?"

"It won't be different."

Morgan stared at her for a moment before bowing and shaking his head.

"You've learned everything you're gonna learn from me," he said solemnly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anna asked.

"It means I'm not training you anymore," he said, looking up at her with a steady gaze before turning on his heel and walking out.

Anna stared after him, unsure of what she was supposed to do.

"Hey, Anna?"

Startled by the sudden presence, Anna turned to find Emma standing there.

"Is now a good time to talk?"

* * *

"And this is the office," Anna said, leading them into the room.

It looked as it usually did, two armchairs in front of the cluttered desk, bookshelves lining the walls. For a moment, Anna wondered if she should have tidied up before having company.

"Nice," Emma said, admiring the room, easing Anna's tension.

Anna rounded the desk and pulled open a drawer to find her interview notebook and sat down in the desk chair while Emma sat across from her.

"Here's the list of questions I ask for my interviews," she explained, opening the book to the first page. "I'll copy it down and you can take it."

There was a list of questions, running down the page, some scribbled out because she decided she didn't like or need them. As she began writing out the questions on a separate sheet of paper, she explained to Emma that when she had first written out her list, she had tried to remain as analytical as possible, not wanting to avoid questions just because they may be too much. She wanted to ask them and let the person she was interviewing decide if they wanted to answer.

"What are those?" Emma asked, pointing at the milk crate filled with manila folders, all labeled with names and the dates and times of the interview.

"The files of the people of Alexandria," Anna said, crossing a _t_ and dotting an _i_.

"You keep files on everyone?"

Anna nodded, "Most of the files are of the interviews, but I wanted to make profiles on everyone as well. It's made things easier—finding out what job everyone is best suited for, keeping track of rations—stuff like that."

"There are a lot of files," she commented.

"Yeah, there are a lot of people here," Anna shrugged.

"How come these are over here?" Emma asked, gesturing to the files on the desk. "Are you working on something?"

"No—yes. I was. Those files—those _people _are gone," Anna explained hesitantly.

"Oh," Emma said. "I'm sorry."

It was quiet for a moment, the only sound being that of Anna's pen sliding across the page as she finished copying the list. When she was done, she passed it to Emma. The two stood up and Emma gasped.

"You have a computer?"

"Yeah. It doesn't have the internet, but it does what I need it to do," Anna said easily, glad for the change of subject.

"What's that?" Emma asked, coming around the desk to touch the laptop, as if she couldn't believe it was real.

Anna reached back into the desk and produced her voice recorder.

"It makes it easier to listen to the interviews, and I can put them on CDs," Anna explained.

"Like this one?" Emma asked, picking up the unmarked and undisturbed CD on the desk.

"Don't!" Anna jumped, pulling the CD from Emma's hand. She shoved it into the drawer and slammed it shut, wiping her hand on her jeans as if the CD had left some kind of residue behind.

Anna looked up at a startled Emma.

"I'm sorry," Anna said quickly. "It's just—that's—" she cut herself off.

"It's okay," Emma assured.

"It's for a family," Anna said before she could stop herself. "Their daughter—she's gone."

Anna didn't know what had come over her, why she was telling this near stranger any of this. She pressed her lips together to keep the words from spilling from her mouth. Emma didn't need to know.

"I'm so sorry," Emma said quietly. There was beat of silence. "So, you make CDs for the families of those who died?"

"Yeah," Anna muttered. "If they have any family left. Sometimes they don't get to say goodbye."

"How did she die?" Emma asked cautiously. "If you don't mind me asking."

Anna didn't say anything right away, fighting the tears that stung at her bottom lids. It was as though her chest were imploding, Lindsey's screams ringing in her ears.

"Like a hero."

* * *

"Describe it," Rick said, placing a piece of paper on the table in front of Eddie.

"Rectangular building, big satellites on it," he said, drawing a very rough sketch in marker of what he was describing.

"Any windows?"

"I don't remember any. I think they made it so there's only one way in."

"Guards outside?" Anna asked.

"Yeah, two of them, at least."

"And you don't know how many people they have?" Michonne asked.

"No…. Uh—I mean, no," Eddie stammered. "I saw a place where they stored food. It wasn't that big, so—"

"You've been inside?" Rick asked.

"Yeah. They had us load in supplies one time."

Glenn grabbed another piece of paper and laid it down over the first.

"What do you remember?" He asked.

Eddie started sketching again, indicating where the store room was and not much else.

"And you didn't see any other rooms?" Maggie asked.

"No, it's a big place," Eddie said. "This is the hallway I saw. There _is_ more."

"And every time, they had you bring things into here?" Michonne asked, pointing at the store room.

"We brought a couple spears for them," Eddie offered. "Two of the Saviors took them down this hallway," he said, drawing out hallways and making arrows.

"Maybe a weapons locker, an armory?" Paul suggested.

"Okay," Glenn said. "We get in there, secure the armory, that's how we end it."

"That's how Carol ended it here," Maggie agreed.

"But we don't know if they have an armory or where it even is," Eddie said.

"They'll have an armory—be stupid if they didn't," Anna said. "And it'll be down this way."

She ran her finger over the direction Eddie had indicated the Saviors had taken the spears.

"Well, we've got a lot of good guesses," Daryl said, stepping forward. "We've done more with less."

"We go in at night—while they're sleeping," Rick said.

"The guards won't be sleeping," Eddie interjected. "Like I said, I think there's only one way in and there's no way to bust through that door without waking up the rest of them."

"We don't need to. They're going to open it for us, let us walk right in," Rick assured. "They want Gregory's head, right?" Everyone looked to him. "We're gonna give it to 'em."


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Anna stood at the foot of the bed looking down at her pack, rifle and stick laid out before her, her 9mm and hunting knife strapped to her hips. Last night, they had planned everything out meticulously. Today, Anna was left with a decision.

_"You don't have to go," Daryl said as the pair entered the bedroom. He sat down and started to pull off his boots._

_ "Yes, I do," Anna sighed, setting her gun on her nightstand. "You need all the help you can get."_

_ "What about that whole no-killing thing?"_

_ Anna kicked off her boots and pulled out a fresh pair of clothes._

_ "Training with Morgan was just meant to give me an option," she explained._

_ "How's he feel about you choosin' to do this?"_

_ "Well, he won't train me anymore."_

_ Anna started towards the bathroom to take a shower._

_ "Not like you needed him anymore, anyhow," Daryl assured._

She was going; there was no doubt about that as she pulled her pack onto her shoulders. For the past month she'd been training to have this choice—to have more options than just death. Now that the time had come to decide, she hesitated.

Anna knew that no matter what, there would be killing tonight. That didn't mean she had to be the one doing the killing.

_"Is that who you want to be?"_

Anna picked up the rifle and slung it over her shoulder. She decided it didn't matter who she _wanted_ to be. She was going to be who she _needed_ to be.

* * *

Rick pulled the RV to a stop on the road and laid on the horn before climbing out.

"Aaron, Rosita," he called as everyone filed out of their respective vehicles. "You start here. We'll peel off every quarter mile, meet back here in a couple of hours. See what we got."

Anna paired up with Glenn and Heath, heading into the woods. She looked out for tracks as they moved quietly through the foliage, picking up a trail and leading her companions to a group of three walkers.

Silently, the trio rushed the walkers and put them down before inspecting them.

"What do you think?" Heath asked.

"Maybe. If we, um, cut the hair, trim the beard," Glenn said, squinting at one of the walkers.

"If it's dark," Anna added.

"We're gonna kill those people," Heath said. "Tonight."

Anna looked to him, confused as to why he was bringing it up. They already knew what they had to do.

"Look, I've been lucky," Heath explained. "I haven't had to do it before." Heath shook his head. "Have you?"

"I've been lucky, too," Glenn said.

Anna bowed her head, trying to decide if she should lie or even say anything.

"You nervous?" Heath asked, seeming to take her hesitation as a no.

"Have you ever seen something that—um—afterwards, you—" Glenn started, "you didn't want to sleep and you weren't hungry because when you close your eyes you could see it? And when you try to eat—"

"Yeah," Heath said.

"Me, too," Glenn glanced at Anna. "Killing somebody has gotta be worse than that." He looked back to Heath. "It has to be. So, yeah, I'm nervous. For the whole thing, man. For the whole thing."

* * *

"We're gonna take a look around, try to get a feel for how many people are in there," Rick said to the gathered group. "We like how it looks, we go in. A couple of hours before dawn. The guard's outside'll be tired. Everyone inside'll be sleeping. We don't like what we see, we head back, make a new plan. They don't know who we are. We'll keep Jesus in the shadows. This is how we eat." Rick paused a moment. "This is how we eat. We roll out at midnight."

Anna nodded to herself and pushed off the truck as Rick disappeared around the RV to talk to Eddie and Paul. She stepped off to the side of the road, and scuffed her boots against the pavement when Glenn appeared beside her.

"You don't have to be here," he said.

"Neither do you—or Maggie. Why is she even here?" Anna asked.

"She said she needed to be here—that we're here because of her," Glenn said. "Why are you here?"

Anna glanced over her shoulder to see Daryl and Jessie talking by the truck.

"I'm exactly where I need to be," Anna stated firmly, turning back around.

"Are you sure you can do it?"

"I've done it before," Anna shrugged. "Not all of us are quite so lucky."

"What happened with Marley—"

"I know," she cut him off. "She didn't leave me any choice. And this isn't exactly the same thing. But the fact remains that I was trained to do stuff like this—at Fort Benning."

"You're not a soldier," Glenn insisted. "You're more than that."

"Right now, a soldier is what I have to be."

* * *

Anna pressed her shoulder against the wall, her rifle ready as she peered around the corner. She watched the truck pull into the parking lot.

"Stop right there!" Shouted someone from inside. "Announce yourself, asshole!"

"It's Eddie from Hilltop!" Eddie called after rolling down his window. "It's done."

"Step out!"

Eddie turned the car off and stepped out of the truck holding his hands in the air along with a heavy sack as the guards exited the building and aimed their guns.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah," Eddie assured.

"Bring it here, shit brain!" The fatter guard snapped.

Eddie cautiously approached them and held out the sack.

"I don't want the bag, needle dick."

Eddie lowered his hands and reached into the bag, producing the rotting head of a walker that resembled Gregory.

"Will you look at this shit?" The fat guard laughed. "Will you look at this shit?"

The other guard stepped forward and took the head from Eddie, inspecting the face. Anna tensed, slowly raising her gun to aim at him.

"He broke my hand," Eddie explained. "I broke his nose. That's why he looks that way."

The second guard looked between the head and Eddie before he reached up and grabbed "Gregory's" chin and moved it.

"Little bitch broke my nose. Wah," he whined in a nasally voice.

He tossed the head into the grass and wiped his hand on Eddie's shirt.

"Okay, looks like you learned," he said in a normal voice. "I'll get your guy, you'll go home and you bring us more stuff next week, hm?" He said, slapping Eddie lightly and heading inside.

The first guard began to whistle, the tune of _Happy Birthday_ carrying through the air ominously. He didn't get through the third verse before Daryl rushed up behind him and slit his throat.

He fell to the ground, gurgling on his blood as Daryl finished him off. Everyone swarmed the area silently, some watching the perimeter, most clearing the scene of any evidence the guard had been there before they all disappeared once more. It was like a carefully choreographed scene change for some twisted play and they were the stage hands, with Eddie as the leading man.

The door opened again and the other guard came out, pushing along a barely conscious man.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is," he said.

The moment he stopped, Michonne deftly jumped out of the bushes and ran him through with her sword.

The captive gasped in surprise before Eddie caught him and covered his mouth.

"It's okay, it's okay. We're bringing you back," Eddie assured. "We're bringing you back."

After stabbing him in the head, Rick took the keys off the guard and tossed them to Daryl. Anna took point and filed in, holding her body low as she aimed her rifle in front of her, peering down her sights as she moved further into the building.

"Check the doors. Find the arsenal," Rick instructed as the others followed after her. "We take 'em out."

Michonne opened a door on the right as Aaron and Rosita split off from the group to head down the left hallway. Finding nothing in the room, Michonne moved down the hall to join Rick and Daryl by the door at the end of the first hall.

Anna followed Glenn and Heath down the right hall and stopped at a door. Heath slowly opened the door and cautiously walked in; his knife ready. Anna kept watch as Glenn followed him inside.

After a moment, she turned her head to see Glenn standing over one of the sleeping men, his hands visibly shaking as he held the knife over the man's head. Anna straightened and lowered her weapon, stepping into the room. She paused when he plunged the knife into the man's eye.

She looked to Heath, who hovered over the other man, trembling. Anna reached out and gently grabbed his hand, moving it away from the man. Heath looked to her and shook his head, stepping away as Anna pulled her knife. She reminded herself that she'd done it before, that this was what they needed to do.

_"Is that who you want to be?"_ Morgan's voice asked in her head. She brushed the words away, only to see in her mind the smiling face of Lindsey—the girl Anna used to be.

She felt a light pressure on her hand and realized Glenn was pushing her back.

"It's okay," he whispered so softly she could barely hear him.

Then he plunged the knife into the sleeping man's eye and took a shuddering breath. He looked to Heath and Anna and they nodded to each other, a solemn understanding passing between them.

This was who they were.

Glenn looked back at what he'd done and Anna felt the guilt build up. His eyes traveled up to the wall, and Anna followed his gaze to find a series of polaroid photos stuck to the cement. She stared at the pictures; they were mostly close ups of people's heads—what was left of them.

_Anna slammed the rock into the center of his face, cutting him off. Blood spurted out of his nose. She pulled back and slammed it into his face again, the back of his head cracking against the tree. He grabbed at her wrist before falling over._

Anna gasped, taking a step back right into Heath. Glenn looked back at her, opening his mouth to speak when an alarm blared throughout the building.

"We need to go!" Anna snapped, turning on her heel as she raised her gun and exited the room, clearing both sides of the hallway before leading them out.

The three ran down the hall, guns raised. They came up on an intersection and Anna slid to a halt, nearly colliding with another person. One she didn't recognize. Instinctively, Anna whipped the butt of her rifle around and slammed it into the side of the man's face, knocking him to the ground. A bullet flew past her and embedded itself into the wall. She looked up to see five others running towards them.

"Fuck!" Anna huffed, running forward to the other side of the intersection.

She allowed Glenn to pass her, turning back periodically to fire at their pursuers, ducking weapons fire as Glenn shot at a door at the end of the hall. He pushed it open and fell inside, Heath following suit before Anna dived in and slammed the door shut.

They covered their heads as they lay on the ground, bullets ripping through the door. Once the Saviors stopped, the three jumped to their feet and grabbed for the rifles stacked around them, returning fire through the closed door.

Her fingers numb, Anna eased up on the trigger, lowering her rifle as she stared at the little holes scattered over the door. Glenn and Heath stopped shooting and lowered their weapons. No one fired back. Anna stepped forward, cautiously pulling the door open.

Six bodies were splayed out on the ground just outside the door. There was blood spattered on the walls, pooling on the floor—one man's face was ripped to shreds from the rain of bullets.

As they surveyed the massacre, one man slumped against the wall slowly opened one eye and raised his arm, barely able to aim his gun. Anna tensed, but before she could raise her rifle a single shot rang out.

She looked up from the body to see Paul, his gun held at his side as he lowered a bandanna from around his face.

"So, this is the next world," he said.

* * *

Anna blinked against the light as Rick raised the rolling door to the yard. Everyone filed out, guns in front of them as they scanned the area. They moved down the row of vehicles and scattered over the yard looking for any survivors. Rick signaled the all clear.

Anna lowered her rifle and made her way over to the vehicles where Tara stood near the RV.

"Lucky they had this," Tara commented, slapping the hood of the RV as Anna approached.

"Yeah, lucky," Anna said. "You be safe out there."

"Heath'll be watching my back," Tara assured. Anna glanced over Tara's shoulder to see Heath and Glenn talking; she didn't miss the haunted look on both their faces. "And it's only a two-week run—piece of cake," she said, patting Anna's shoulder.

Tara and Heath finished saying their goodbyes to the others before loading up in the RV and heading out.

As the RV disappeared, Anna walked over to Glenn.

"Don't ask me if I'm alright," Glenn said before she could even open her mouth.

Anna shook her head. "I wasn't going to. You're not alright."

"This is how it was for you," Glenn muttered. "I thought I knew what you'd been going through—thought I understood." He shook his head. "No, you had it worse, didn't you? Marley—she was your friend. Your best friend."

"I thought she was my friend," Anna said, tilting her head up to look at the overcast sky. "She wasn't. Not really. Friends don't do the things she did." Anna shook her head and looked to Glenn, gently laying her hand on his shoulder. "You were a realer friend to me in two weeks than Marley ever was in the six years I knew her."

Glenn reached up and patted her hand.

"I don't think I ever had a real friend," Glenn said. "Not 'til you—and everyone here." Anna dropped her hand away. "You guys are my family."

Anna smiled at him before looking around at the rest of the group. After everything, Glenn was right. They were family.

"Does it ever get easier?"

Anna turned her attention back to Glenn, that look still in his eyes. She'd seen it in her own enough times.

"No," she said honestly. "What happened here is going to stay with you for a while."

Glenn nodded solemnly.

"But, you're not alone," Anna assured.

Glenn opened his mouth to speak when the roar of a motorcycle engine interrupted him. They turned to see a man in a leather jacket erupt from the garage, headed for the open gate.

Anna raised her rifle and tracked him for a second before firing into his shoulder, knocking him off the bike.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl snapped, barreling past her and Glenn as the man scrambled to his feet, only for Daryl to tackle him to the ground. "Where'd you get the bike?" He demanded, punching the man in the face a few times.

When Rick arrived at the scene, he aimed his gun at the man's head while Glenn and Anna approached.

"Just do it!" The man growled through a mouthful of blood. "Like you did everyone else, right?"

"—_Lower your gun, prick_. —"

Anna looked down to see a walkie in the grass before she dropped to one knee and aimed her rifle for the tree line.

"—_You, with the Colt Python. All of you, lower your weapons right now. —_"

Anna didn't budge, scanning the trees for any sight of who may be watching them. Rick picked up the walkie, not bothering to lower his gun.

"Come on out," he said. "Let's talk."

"—_We're not coming out, but we will talk, —_" assured the woman over the radio, her voice taunting. "—_We've got a Carol and Maggie. I'm thinking that's something you want to chat about. —"_


	18. Chapter Seventeen

"—_Now, we're gonna work this out right now—and it's going to go our way. —_"

Anna peered through her scope, scanning the tree line for any sight of people.

"You can see we have one of yours. We'll trade," Rick said into the walkie.

"—_I'm listening, —_" came the woman's response.

"First I want to talk to Maggie and Carol, make sure they're alright."

There was a pause before static came.

"—_Rick, it's Carol. I'm fine—I'm fine, but— —_" she cut off.

"—_Rick, it's Maggie. We're both okay. We'll figure this— —_" the woman came back on before Maggie could finish.

"—_You have your proof. Let's talk. —_"

"This is the deal, right here. Let 'em go, you can have your guy back and live," Rick said.

"—_Two for one, that's not much of a trade. —_"

Anna glanced at Glenn and Daryl.

"You don't have another choice, or you would've done something about it already," Rick countered. "Look, I know you're talking it over. It's a fair trade. Just come out, we do this, we all walk away." He waited a moment for a response. "Do we have a deal?"

"—_I'll get back to you. —_"

Rick sighed and clipped the walkie to his belt before tucking his gun in its holster.

"What's the plan?" Michonne asked.

"We're gonna get 'em back," Rick assured. "Get him up," he ordered, heading for the row of vehicles.

Daryl yanked the man to his feet as Anna stood.

"This ain't over," Daryl hissed, shoving the man forward.

"It's never over," Anna murmured.

* * *

The group found the location where the Saviors had watched them from afar. Anna couldn't help but think that Maggie shouldn't have been out here in the first place. Otherwise, Carol would have been with them in the compound and they wouldn't be in this mess.

"There were four of 'em," Daryl declared, surveying the surrounding area.

"Looks like they went this way," Anna observed, kneeling beside some pulled dirt, no doubt from Maggie or Carol.

"Alright," Rick said, turning to the group. "Jessie, Abraham. Take Gabriel, Rosita, Sasha, and Aaron back to the vehicles; wherever this trail leads, meet us there." He turned to Paul and Emma, standing off to the side. "You two should head back to Hilltop, let them know we're takin' care of things."

"I'm going to stay," Emma stated. "I want to help."

Rick nodded.

"Okay. Let's head out."

They split off into their respective parts, and Jessie stepped over to Anna.

"Hey, you good?" He asked, patting her arm.

"I'm fine," she shrugged. "I'll see you soon."

Jessie nodded and jogged to catch up with his group. They soon disappeared between the trees, and Anna turned back to Daryl and the others.

Daryl led the group, following the tracks Anna had found, everyone walking along in a solemn silence. Anna took up the rear, watching out for any signs of trouble.

Emma fell back to walk beside her.

"Thanks for staying," Anna said, not looking at the woman.

"We're gonna find them," Emma assured. "We've got a plan, and we've got tracks. It's going to be alright."

"We will," Anna agreed.

"Are you close with them?" Emma asked.

"I've known them since close to the beginning," Anna explained. "They're family."

"You're lucky," Emma said. "I don't have any family left."

"I'm sorry," Anna said. "Jessie—my brother—he's all I've got left from before. It's a miracle we found each other. It's easy to forget how lucky I am when the losses keep piling up. It's hard holding onto anything nowadays."

"I'm sorry, too. I guess we've all had more than our fair share of losses. I'm lucky to have found Hilltop. But it's still not easy dealing with it all. Sometimes writing is the only thing that gets me through the day," she said, her voice cracking.

"I suppose writing still does have its uses," Anna said quietly.

"I wish I was as strong as you," Emma sighed. "You seem like you've handled it all pretty well."

Anna glanced at Emma before quickly averting her eyes back to the perimeter.

_If only that were true._

Everything started going through her head like a movie as they walked—all the losses, the conversations, and the avoiding. It seemed avoiding was all she did, and this woman was calling her strong? Everyone else faced their losses and problems. She couldn't.

Up ahead, Daryl stepped to the left of the group, pausing at a grouping of bushes.

"So, you and him?" Emma asked, gesturing to Daryl.

"Yeah," Anna said, happy for the change of subject.

"How long has that been a thing?" Emma asked, gently poking Anna's forearm.

"About two years," Anna smiled.

"This way!" Daryl called, leading the group through the bushes and onto a road, where they could see a set of very obvious tire tracks. Rick turned to their captive Savior.

"Where are they headed?" He asked.

"Fuck you."

Rick shook his head and pulled the walkie from his belt.

"Have you thought about it?" He asked. "Talk to me."

"—_You weren't listening. I said I'd contact you, —_" came that same annoying female voice.

"Would it make a difference if I said I was sorry about that?" Rick asked.

"—_What do you think? —_"

"I think we're gonna make the trade, so tell me where," Rick insisted.

"—_We haven't agreed to that, —_" the woman corrected.

"You will."

"—_You know what? I'm not so sure. We'd be taking most of the risk, not getting much in the way of a reward. —_"

"The other option won't work out for you," Rick warned.

"—_We'll take our chances. —_"

Rick heaved a sigh.

"Tracks are headed south," Daryl said. "Follow the road, see what we see?"

"Yeah," Rick agreed, turning the channel. "Jessie, you there?"

"—_Yeah, —_" came her brothers reply.

"Meet us at mile marker eight," Rick instructed. "We'll be waiting for you."

"—_See you in a bit. —_"

* * *

Anna swayed with the RV as they sped down the road. She sat between Glenn and Daryl, their shoulders bumping together. Daryl held his gun aimed at the unnamed Savior, glaring at the man.

"You gonna keep that thing on me the whole way?" The Savior asked.

"Damn right, and you best pray we get 'em back alive," Daryl sneered, pulling back the hammer on his gun.

The Savior shifted in his seat.

Static came over the walkie. Rick pulled the RV over to the side of the road, the caravan following suit, and pulled the walkie off his belt.

"—_Asshole, are you there? —_"

"I'm here," Rick said.

"—_We've thought about it, —_" the woman said. "—_We want to make the trade. —_"

"That's good," Rick nodded, glancing at Michonne beside him.

"—_There's a large field with a sign that says "God is dead" about two miles down I-66. Good visibility in all directions, —_" she informed.

"We'll meet you there. Ten minutes?" Rick offered.

"—_Ten minutes, —_" the woman agreed before the static cut out.

Rick turned to the rest of the RV.

"We're getting 'em back," he assured. "This is gonna go our way."

Rick turned the knob on the walkie and informed the rest of the convoy before pulling back onto the road and heading off. Anna looked back to the Savior.

"Looks like you're not getting shot after all," she said.

* * *

The group stood in the field, keeping cover with the vehicles—they weren't taking any chances. Anna leaned against the RV, inspecting her rifle as they waited. Six minutes had already passed since they had arrived in the field, the large sign looming over them. She squinted up at the words spray-painted across the billboard.

_God is dead_.

She wondered how long it had been there. Judging by the water damage and rust, probably since the beginning.

"Where the hell are they?" Daryl growled, pacing back and forth in front of the Savior, gun still aimed.

"They'll be here," Rick assured.

"And if they ain't?" Daryl snapped.

Rick sighed and opened his mouth to respond when Emma cut him off.

"Hey," she called, pulling everyone's attention to her. She pointed north-east, at the plume of smoke rising above the trees.

"What is that?" Rick asked, immediately turning to the Savior. "What is that?" He demanded again when the Savior only stared at the smoke.

"I—I don't know," the Savior stuttered.

"Is that where they are?" Daryl asked.

"It's gotta be them," Glenn insisted.

"Is that where they are?" Rick repeated, pulling his gun on the man.

"I don't know—probably," the man said quickly. "It's an outpost of ours."

"What're we waitin' for? Let's go," Daryl said, snatching the man by the arm and hauling him to his feet. "Move," he ordered, shoving him towards the RV.

* * *

Anna and Glenn took point, guns trained in front of them as they rounded the corner, the group close behind them until they came upon a steel, rolling door. Anna signaled for Glenn to ready himself before stepping forward and grabbing the handle. She glanced back at him. He nodded and she raised the door, quickly stepping back to aim into the building.

"Maggie!" Glenn cried as Anna registered the two women in front of them.

Daryl rushed past her and approached Carol, inspecting her for injury.

"You okay?" He asked. "We got your trail. You start a fire?"

Carol gave a tight nod. Anna looked between the two women as Rick pushed the Savior into the building.

"Hey, you good?" Daryl asked.

"No," Carol breathed.

"Come here," Daryl said, pulling her into his arms.

"They're dead. They're all dead—the ones that took us. They're all dead," Maggie said quickly.

"Are you okay?" Glenn asked.

"I just—I can't anymore," Maggie sobbed.

"It's okay," Glenn assured, pulling her into him.

Anna stared back and forth between Carol and Maggie—two of the strongest women she knew, completely lost in whatever had happened here.

"Your friends are dead. No one's coming for you," Rick said. "So, you might as well talk."

"Let him burn," Daryl taunted.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time, how'd you get the bike?" Rick asked.

"We found it."

"Like hell you did," Daryl snapped.

"We found it," the Savior insisted.

"Was Negan in that building last night, or was he here?" Rick asked.

The man looked slowly at Rick.

"Both," he said. "I'm Negan, shithead."

Anna furrowed her brow, her grip on her gun tightening.

"There's a whole world of fun that we can talk about, so let's have a chat," Negan grinned.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this," Rick said, stepping back and raising his gun.

Anna flinched as the echo of the Python firing rang in her ears, and she watched the man fall to the ground, his brains splattered on the gray wall behind him.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

The gate squealed shut as Anna disembarked the RV. The day was late when they returned to Alexandria. She felt heavy. Her eyes trailed over to the wall with its names painted in black.

"Hey."

Anna turned to find Emma standing beside her. Just over Emma's shoulder, she could see Paul speaking with Rick.

"I just wanted to thank you—all of you—for what you did," Emma said.

Anna nodded quietly, unsure of what to say.

"I know it was a lot to ask of you," Emma went on. "It's a lot to ask of anyone. So, thank you."

"We had to," Anna said, perhaps as more of a reassurance to herself than to Emma. She shook her head. "It's late. You and Paul should stay the night, head out in the morning."

"Yeah, Rick said the same," Emma said. "We're going to."

"Emma," Paul called, gesturing for her to join him.

"I'll see you around," Emma assured, heading off.

Anna watched her head down the street with Paul and Rosita until the three disappeared inside an unoccupied house.

Shaking her head, Anna joined Daryl and Jessie as they walked down the street towards their home. The three cleaned themselves and heated up some chili Anna had prepared the night before leaving. They ate in silence, the scraping of their spoons against their bowls the only noise.

"I'm gonna go check on Carol," Daryl informed after he cleared his plate and stood.

"Take her some food," Anna insisted, standing to grab a Tupperware bowl from the cabinet. She dished up what was left of their dinner and passed it to Daryl.

He took the food and left, leaving Jessie and Anna to sit alone at the table.

"You think she's okay?" Jessie asked.

"No."

* * *

Anna sat tapping her fingers against the armrests of her chair and staring at the plastic square in the center of the desk. The house had been silent with Jessie and Daryl asleep in their beds for the past five hours. Anna couldn't sleep, though, her mind plagued with thoughts.

_ "Are you doing okay?" Glenn asked._

_"I'm fine."_

"_I'm just worried about you. You've never been one to… cope very well,"_

"_You used to write all the time, and that was good, but now—"_

"_Sometimes writing is the only thing that gets me through the day."_

_"I'm okay. This is just what I need to do right now."_

_"I'm sorry, Anna, but what you need to do is face your grief. You're avoiding it."_

"_I wish I was as strong as you."_

"_Lindsey wasn't your fault."_

Anna winced. With a slow breath, she leaned forward and pulled one of the manilla folders from the short stack. She ran her fingers over the face of the folder before opening it carefully—as if opening it would set off a bomb.

The first thing she saw was a polaroid photo. She touched the photo gently before turning her attention to the words written on the page. She hadn't been able to bring herself to do anything with this particular file since making the CD.

_Lindsey Lopez_

_17 years old_

_DOB: August 18, 1994_

_DOD:_

_Parents: Ana and Gabriel Lopez_

The rest was a recounting of Lindsey's story—the time she spent outside the walls with her mother and father, how they found Alexandria, and her time spent within the walls. Anna set the file down and picked up a pen, holding the nib over the page, and glancing at the sticky note on the desk lamp. It read _587_.

Anna pressed the pen nib against the page and drew out the numbers _553_. Thirty-four entire days had gone by. Had it really been that long?

She wanted to stop there, to close the file and tuck it away—to pretend again. Instead, she flipped through the pages until she found the end of the interview transcript.

_Lindsey Lopez; day 553—night. Died saving the life of Jessie Wycoff from a herd of the undead that penetrated the walls of Alexandria as a direct result of the Wolf Invasion. Buried within the walls of Alexandria._

Anna paused. What else was she supposed to say? That Lindsey shouldn't have been the one to save Jessie? That she died terrified and in pain? That if Anna had just been strong enough—maybe Lindsey would still be alive.

Anna let out a long and shuddering breath as she leaned forward and rested her head against her trembling fist as it gripped the pen, the nib pressing hard into page. A sob leaked from her throat.

Anna pushed the chair back and stood. As she left the room, she snatched up the plastic square from the desk and silently slipped out of the house.

Not entirely sure of where she was going, Anna walked down the dark street, following the edge of the sidewalk to the front gates. She could see a figure standing on the platform, holding a rifle, but she couldn't make them out. It didn't matter.

She turned left for the row of bushes and paused at the opening, staring inside the dark graveyard. With one last deep breath, Anna stepped forward until she stood in front of a month-old grave, the name _Lindsey_ carved into the wooden cross.

Anna stood quietly for a long time, just staring at the name.

"I'm sorry," she finally breathed.

* * *

It was early; the sun was barely peeking over the tree tops. Anna was the only one on the streets, standing in front of a two-story house painted a light yellow. She looked down at the CD, gleaming in the slowly brightening morning.

She scuffed her heel against the pavement and took a deep breath before starting toward the house. Her heart pounded against her chest as she neared the front door. She paused, still trying to decide if she would be able to face the people on the other side or if she should just leave the disc on the porch. The decision was made for her when the white door slowly opened to reveal a middle-aged man with deep shadows under his eyes.

"Come in," Gabriel said, stepping to the side to allow her entrance.

Anna hesitated a moment, but walked up the steps and through the door.

"Have a seat," he instructed, gesturing to the darkened living room.

Anna did as she was told and sat in an armchair across from the woman—Ana—on the couch, who was wrapped in a grey and black blanket. The two sat in silence, a CD player/radio between them, as Gabriel worked in the kitchen. He soon joined them, a steaming coffee mug in hand.

"Here," he offered, passing the mug to Anna.

She accepted it.

"We've been waiting for you," Ana said, her voice hoarse; Anna was certain she had been crying recently.

"I'm sorry—" Anna said, clearing her throat.

It was quiet for a long time, no one really looking at each other or drinking their coffee. It was like they were frozen—like the whole world had stopped within the confines of the house. The air was heavy and solemn—suffocating.

Anna looked to the CD player/radio on the coffee table. Ana and Gabriel had indeed been waiting for her, and she had left them to stew while she was busy pretending everything was okay.

She let out a low sigh and set her mug on the table beside her before pushing herself to her feet and opening the CD port. Her hands were shaking as she opened the CD case and placed the CD into the player. She shut the little port and hit the play button, then settled back into her armchair.

There was nothing for a moment, and still no one looked at each other. Anna had never been on this side of the door when delivering this kind of CD. She knew what was on it—she had memorized it word for word. But what were Ana and Gabriel going to do once it started?

"_My name is Lindsey Lopez,_" came that familiar voice. "_I'm seventeen years old and I like your boots._"

Anna felt a small smile creep onto her face, remembering how she'd been sitting in this very armchair during the interview, Lindsey in the middle of the couch while her parents stood in the kitchen preparing lunch.

She heard a slight hiccup and looked up to see a sad smile on Ana's face, her hand gripping Gabriel's as the interview continued.

* * *

Emma and Paul stood at the gates, waiting on the car that they would take for their return trip to Hilltop. Anna, Carl, and Rick stood nearby.

"This is good," Paul said, nodding. "What happened the last two days—it wasn't pretty. But now our people can open up trade. We can work together to forge a new future."

"I'm glad we could come to an understanding," Rick said, watching as an old, black Impala pulled up. He turned to Paul and patted him on the shoulder. "We can all finally start to move forward."

"I hope I'll see you around," Emma said, turning to Anna.

"Yeah, maybe we can discuss our opinions on _Macbeth_," Anna teased.

Movement caught Anna's eye, and she glanced over to see Morgan practicing his movements near the solar panels.

"What is he doing?" Emma asked, nodding towards him.

"He's training—Aikido," Anna explained. "He trained me in it, too."

"I've heard of that," Emma said. "Why aren't you training with him?"

"He—uh…," Anna stammered. "He decided to discontinue my training due to irreconcilable differences."

"What differences were those?"

"On whether or not to kill the Saviors," Anna said with a sigh.

"Oh," Emma said. "It's not like you _wanted_ to do it."

"I didn't have to do it," Anna corrected. "I had a choice."

"What you chose saved lives—brought our communities together," Emma insisted.

Anna looked down at Emma, looking over the woman's smooth, pale face framed by her red hair.

"Every choice we make has a consequence—good or bad," Anna said.

"You're right," Emma agreed. "So, let's enjoy the good while we can."

"Emma," Paul called. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Emma said, stepping away from Anna. "I'll see you around," she said before walking around the car and climbing into the passenger seat.

Anna, Carl, and Rick watched as the gate screeched open and the car pulled forward, heading down the road.

"Hey, Anna," Carl said, pulling her attention to him. "You wanna come over later and play some video games?"

Anna smiled.

"Yeah, that sounds fun," she said. They agreed to a time, then Carl and Rick both headed homes.

She turned back to Morgan to see him still running through the movements. Taking a deep breath, she started towards him. As she approached, he stilled and settled his stick on the ground, stoically leaning against it.

"Morgan," she greeted.

"Anna," he replied, not looking at her.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"I'm not going to apologize for the choice I made," she finally said.

"Is that what you came over here to tell me?" Morgan asked, pressing his lips together.

"Morgan."  
He looked at her then, and she could see the disappointment and frustration there.

"You trained me so that I could have a choice. I chose. It may not have been the one you wanted, but I got to choose for myself," she sighed and shook her head. "You gave me that."

"You didn't have to kill them," Morgan insisted.

"I thought about it, Morgan," Anna said. "I didn't just pick what everyone else was doing, or decide on a whim. I _hate_ killing." She took a long breath and exhaled slowly. "It's what needed to be done. They weren't just going to walk away, and we couldn't just lock them up."

"What if we can?" Morgan asked suddenly. "What if we can?"

* * *

Anna ran her fingers over the metal bars and looked over the cinder block walls. The cell was almost completely built, save for a few cinder blocks missing at the top.

"You did all of this?" Anna asked. "By yourself? How long?"

"Since we started your trainin'," Morgan said.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She pushed. "I would have helped."

"I'm tellin' you now."

Anna looked over the materials laid off to the side, cement set on a bench, cinderblocks waiting to be placed. Morgan had given Anna a choice by teaching her Aikido and the stick. With this cell, he was giving the rest of Alexandria a choice, too.

"Well, I'm here now," she said.

Without debate, the two set to work. Anna climbed the stool and started laying cement, followed by Morgan placing the cinder blocks and smoothing everything out. It continued like this until there was only one spot left.

Anna set the cement into the final space and stepped aside, allowing Morgan to climb the stool and slide the last cinder block into place. Anna smiled at the work, wiping her hands of the wet cement before it dried too much on her skin.

"Morgan, Anna."

The two turned to see Rick on the other side of the bars.

"Why?" He asked, glancing around at the cell.

Morgan glanced at Anna before looking back to Rick.

"It'll give you some choices next time."


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Anna returned home not long after finishing the cell and took a shower before walking out onto the front porch, where Daryl sat inspecting his bike.

"I'm glad you got it back," Anna said, sitting on the top step. "Now you can teach me how to ride," she said, bumping his shoulder.

Daryl snorted, "You already know how to ride, sweetheart."

Anna felt her chest tighten and her skin heat, but she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face.

"What was it you said? You'd rock my world? Best I'd ever have?" Daryl asked softly in her ear, his arm snaking around her waist.

"Daryl," Anna laughed, lightly pushing him away.

Daryl smirked at her and pulled back.

"No trainin' today?" He asked.

"No," Anna said. "I had more important things to do."

"Daryl, Anna."

The two looked over to see Rosita and Denise approaching, with a rifle and a piece of paper respectively.

"What's up?" Daryl asked, getting to his feet.

"We're running low on medicine—I think I know where we can find some," Denise explained as she handed Daryl the piece of paper in her hand.

Anna looked over his shoulder to see that it was a map.

"After I got out of DC, I just drove," Denise started. "I remember seeing it right when I realized I had no idea where I was going. _Edison's Apothecary and Boutique_. It's just this little gift shop in a strip mall, but if it's really an apothecary, they had drugs."

"How do you know they still got 'em?" Daryl asked.

"It isn't that far," Denise assured. "I just wanna check. And you, Anna, and Rosita aren't out scavenging or pulling shifts."

Daryl pursed his lips.

"We'll go," he said.

"I wanted to check," Denise said quickly. "I just want to help."

"How much time you spend out there?" Daryl asked.

"None," Denise sighed.

"Forget it," Daryl snapped.

"I can ID the meds," Denise insisted. "I know how to use a machete now. I've seen roamers up close. I'm ready."

Daryl glanced at Anna, then looked to Rosita.

"You good with this?"

"No," Rosita huffed.

"I'll go alone, if I have to," Denise warned.

"You'll die alone," Daryl said.

"I'm asking you to make sure I don't."

"I am not babysitting her by myself," Rosita scoffed.

* * *

The trip down the road was jolting and loud. Daryl pushed and pulled the stick shift and the engine squealed in protest. Anna leaned against the passenger door and stole a glance at Rosita in the bed of the truck. Anna may not have known how to drive a stick shift, but she didn't need to; it was obvious that Daryl didn't know how, either.

"It—the—" Denise cut herself off, shaking her head.

"No, what?" Daryl pushed, shoving the stick shift forward. The engine practically growled at them.

"I think maybe you're disengaging it too soon," Denise explained. Daryl looked to her. "I've been driving stick since I was fifteen—usually beat up trucks like this. I mean—you know, before I left home," she rambled.

Daryl continued to 'disengage too soon' and the gears responded by grinding on each other.

"My brother taught me, so I just know," Denise insisted.

Daryl watched Denise as he shifted gears, and Anna could feel a headache forming, but her attention turned to the tree blocking the road.

"Daryl," she called.

"Yup," Daryl sighed, pulling to a stop. "Stay here," he instructed, climbing out of the truck.

Anna stepped out as Rosita jumped down from the truck bed. The three approached the tree cautiously, scanning the perimeter and inspecting the damage. They could hear growling. Rosita grabbed a branch and tossed it aside to reveal a snarling walker.

"This happened fast," she said. "Tree rotted out. It wasn't people."

Daryl stepped off to the side to peer into the woods as Rosita dropped her machete on the walker's head and rummaged through the pack on its back. She produced a plastic bag of what looked and sounded like glass bottles. Anna went back to the truck and pulled the door open.

"Come on," she said, gesturing for Denise to get out.

"What did you find" Denise asked.

"Bottles of booze," Rosita said, displaying her loot. "Any takers?"

"No, thanks," Denise said, quickly tucking her sheathed machete back into her belt.

Daryl went back to the truck and grabbed Anna's old, orange duffle and his shotgun from the bed as Anna grabbed a black backpack; they then joined the others.

"For later," Rosita insisted. "I'm not bringing these to the pantry,"

"I'm good," Denise assured. "They were kind of my parents' thing. Which is why they aren't mine."

Rosita reached for the pack, and Anna tossed it to her.

"That truck ain't gonna make it past this tree. Come on, let's walk," Daryl said, starting around the tree.

"Hold up," Denise called. "Looks like a straight shot if we follow these tracks," she said, pointing down the trail of train tracks.

"No," Daryl said simply. "No tracks. We'll take the road."

"That's twice as far," Rosita pointed out.

"Go whichever way you like," Daryl snapped. "I ain't takin' no tracks."

With that, he walked off.

"We should stick together," Denise said quietly, following after him.

Anna and Rosita exchanged a look.

"You gonna follow your boyfriend?" Rosita asked, rolling her eyes.

Anna snorted.

"Fuck no," she said. "That's twice as far," she echoed before starting down the tracks.

After a moment she heard a sigh and the crunch of gravel behind her. The two walked for some time. Anna peered around at the trees.

"I wonder why they thought _that_ would be a good idea," Anna said, pointing out cars scattered across and around the tracks as they passed.

"People turn into idiots when the world goes to shit," Rosita shrugged.

Anna hummed in response, thinking back to the airport in Atlanta and the man who had grabbed her.

"What?" Rosita snapped.

"Just doesn't make sense," Anna said thoughtfully.

"You gonna keep muttering to yourself, or are you gonna tell me what the hell you're talking about?" Rosita huffed.

"It's just," Anna started, shaking her head. "Back when everything hit the fan, this guy grabbed me at the airport. He tried to—" she paused. "I never thought much about _why_ he tried. I mean, the world was ending and all he could think to do was—it just doesn't make any sense."

"You kill him?"

Anna stilled and watched as Rosita continued walking—until she noticed Anna wasn't following anymore.

"Well?" Rosita asked, expectantly.

"No," Anna answered. "That wasn't who I was back then."

The two started walking again.

"You know, you aren't who I thought you'd be," Rosita said suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Anna asked.

"Jay—Jessie—told me about you," Rosita explained. "How you were this nice, caring person who wouldn't hurt a fly." She sighed. "From what he told me, I honestly thought you were dead. I didn't think you were the type of person who could make it in this world."

"I wasn't," Anna assured. "I had a lot of people help me along the way."

"Me too," Rosita nodded. "A lot from a lot of people—before and after. And that's what's kept me alive."  
"Yeah," Anna agreed.

As they settled into a silence, Anna and Rosita came upon another crossing and spotted a strip mall down the road. The two shrugged at each other and got comfortable; figuring that it would be awhile before Daryl and Denise joined them, the two sat down on the ground to wait.

Rosita shook her head, pursing her lips as the figures of Daryl and Denise slowly appeared in the distance. They climbed to their feet as the two approached.

"About time," Rosita teased.

Daryl walked past both of them without a word.

"I didn't mean to pick him over you back there," Denise said, looking between Anna and Rosita. "It's just…"

Rosita shook her head, "You're holding it wrong," she said, pointing to the machete in Denise's hand.

Anna sighed and jogged to catch up with Daryl as they all started towards the boutique.

Anna took note of the bloodied hand prints scattered across the face of the building as Daryl knocked on the door. She wondered what they were going to find on the other side. When there was no sound, Daryl handed Anna his shotgun and pulled the duffel off his back.

"Alright, we're gonna do this, you're gonna stay back, got it?" He said, pulling a crowbar from his bag.

He popped the door open easy enough and Anna and Rosita filed in, guns trained forward as Daryl followed after them. They cleared the room quickly and called for Denise to join them inside.

There was gagging from behind, and Anna glanced back to see Denise covering her mouth. Anna hadn't even noticed the smell.

"We gonna find out what you had for breakfast?" Daryl taunted.

"Oatmeal," Denise said as she straightened. "Just so you know."

"Hey," Rosita called, flashing her light over wall lettering that read _Pharmacy_.

Daryl shoved his crowbar under the rolling door covering the window and forced it open with a loud screech.

"You want me to hold your bags, or…?" Denise asked sarcastically. "If you set 'em on the counter, I can tell you which," she said, shining her light into the pharmacy as Daryl and Rosita climbed inside.

"No, we're gonna take it all," Daryl said.

"Are you sure? Because—"

"No, it's fine," Rosita assured.

"We've got enough hands—whatever is expired, we'll throw out," Anna said, moving her light over the knick-knacks on the counters.

The store reminded her of all the little trinkets she had collected at the prison. She wondered if they were still there or if a looter had taken everything. Maybe someone had moved in.

_Thud_.

_Thud_.

_Thud_.

Anna turned about, searching for the source of the sound.

"It's just one," Rosita commented.

"Sounds like it's stuck," Daryl huffed.

"We should be good," Anna shrugged, turning back to a bright, paper mâché baby bird that looked like something a middle schooler made in an art class. She smiled at it and pulled it delicately off the dusty shelf it rested on. "I'm calling it Pocco," Anna said, turning to show it to Denise, only to find the woman gone.

"Denise?" Anna called quietly.

She scanned the area when she noticed a door open. Anna stepped forward, peering into the dark.

"Denise?" She called again.

Anna jumped back when Denise rushed out of the room and straight into a shelf, knocking over some glass bowls.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rosita demanded.

"Nothing," Denise said breathlessly before turning on her heel and walking out of the store.

Daryl and Rosita looked to each other, then to Anna, who merely shrugged in return before returning to gathering the medicine. Anna sighed and looked back at the open door. Cautiously, she stepped inside.

She moved her light over the room, scrunching up her nose at the putrid smell. She saw the baby's playpen in the corner and the kids' books scattered on the ground before she found a female walker laid out on the floor, its leg in a thick, dirty cast. Anna pulled her knife out and ran it through its skull.

She continued her gaze through the room, her light shining over the word _HUSH_ drawn in what looked like red marker on the wall over and over again. She furrowed her brow and brought her eyes down to the metal sink mounted to the wall, filled to the brim with deep red water. A baby's shoe floated on the surface.

Anna's stomach churned at the sight and she quickly stepped from the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

"I'm going to go check on Denise," Anna announced as she walked out of the store, not waiting for a response.

The outside seemed a lot brighter than she remembered as her eyes adjusted to the sudden change in lighting. Anna shielded her eyes and looked around for Denise, spotting her on the ground in front of a pillar, her head turned away. The other woman didn't seem to hear as she approached.

"Hey," Anna said softly, crouching beside her, the paper mâché bird in her hands.

"I'm okay," Denise said quickly, her voice cracking.

"Okay."

They were quiet for a moment. She knew Denise was trying to be strong like everyone else around her. Because no one had ever let her know that she didn't have to be. Not always.

"It's okay if you're not," Anna started. "What you saw back there… it was a lot—even for me."

Denise took a deep breath. "Is it all like that?" She asked.

Anna sighed, pursing her lips. There was no point in sugar coating it. Denise wanted to be out here; she needed to know the truth.

"Sometimes even worse," Anna told her.

"How do you deal with it? How can you see stuff like that and just… keep going?"

Anna bowed her head. "I've, uh—I've never actually been very good at _coping_," she said. "But I'm figuring it out. That's all you really _can_ do—figure it out. And you don't have to do it alone," she assured, looking at Denise.

It was okay to be vulnerable—with the right people—to let them help. That was something Anna was learning. She had taken steps, but there was still one more thing she had to face. Her fingers twitched toward her thigh. The last thing she had yet to tell Daryl.

Denise sniffled and wiped her nose as the front doors creaked open again and Daryl and Rosita joined them outside. Anna stood, wiping her hands on her jeans as Rosita and Daryl looked to her and then to Denise.

"Hey," Daryl said, and Denise wiped her face before looking at him. "You did good finding this place."

Denise nodded and picked up her machete, climbing to her feet.

"Tried to tell you, you weren't ready," Rosita said gently. "We all did."

"I know," Denise said quietly before starting towards the tracks.

"You're never ready for this kind of place," Anna said, looking to Rosita. "You just get used to it," she finished, following after Denise.

The four walked back to the tracks, the pills rattling in Rosita and Daryl's packs.

"So, was he older or younger?" Daryl asked suddenly.

"Older," Denise answered. "By six minutes. My parents came up with the Dennis/Denise thing on one of their benders. Hilarious, right?" Anna smiled. "Nothing scared him. He was brave. He was angry, too. It's kind of a dangerous combination."

"Sounds like we had the same brother," Daryl commented.

They hit the tracks and the women started down the road, prepared to follow Daryl's path in favor of sticking together this time. Daryl had other ideas as he veered to the left and made his way down the tracks.

"Hey," Rosita called, and everyone paused.

"This way's faster right?" Daryl asked, gesturing behind him before he started walking again.

Rosita glanced between Denise and Anna before shaking her head with a sigh at the grin on Denise's face. The two followed after him and Anna smiled, jogging to catch up with and walk beside Daryl.

* * *

"What's this?" Daryl asked, cocking a brow at the treasure Anna held in her hands.

"A paper mâché bird—I'm calling him Pocco," she said, displaying it out in front of them.

"Startin' a new collection?" Daryl asked, pulling lightly on one of the three pieces of coiled colored paper sticking out of the birds' head and letting it spring back into place.

"I figured it was time," Anna shrugged. "We're starting something here, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Daryl hummed. "Yeah, we are."

"Let me put it in your bag," Anna said, stopping.

Daryl paused and turned his back to her, allowing her to uncinch the duffel and carefully place the bird among the orange and white bottles of medicine.

"Thanks," Anna said, cinching the duffel back up and patting his arm.

He turned to her and brushed his hand against hers, lacing his fingers with hers for a moment before bringing his hand up to her face.

"I—"

"There's a cooler in there!" Denise shouted, cutting Anna off. "Might be something we can use inside."

Anna sighed and stepped away from Daryl as they looked to Denise, who was standing beside a car, a walker pounding against the drivers' side window.

"We got what we came for," Rosita said.

"Nah, ain't worth the trouble, come on," Daryl said, starting back down the tracks.

Anna shook her head and continued on, adjusting the rifle on her back, wondering if she should have brought her stick. They hadn't needed to use their weapons so far—except for the one walker.

"Ah!"

The three turned to see Denise struggling on the ground, a walker on top of her. Anna rushed back, ready to yank the walker off Denise.

"No, don't!" Denise shouted before shoving the walker off and climbing on top, pulling her knife out. She pulled back and rammed the blade into the side of the walker's skull.

With the walker dead, Denise got to her feet and tucked the knife back into her belt before stepping towards them, out of breath. She then promptly threw up.

Anna took a step back, scrunching her face up.

"Oh, man," Denise groaned, picking her glasses off the ground. "I threw up on my glasses." She turned away and tucked the glasses into her pocket as she knelt over the cooler she'd tried so hard to get. "Hot damn," she said, pulling an orange soda off a six pack.

"What the hell was that?" Daryl snapped suddenly. "You could've died right there, you know that?"

"Yeah, I do," Denise sighed, standing.

"Are you hearing me?" Daryl shouted.

"Who gives a shit?" Denise shouted back. "You could've died killing those Saviors, all of you, but you didn't. You wanna live, you take chances. That's how it works." She pointed at the walker. "That's what I did."

"For a couple of damn sodas?" Daryl huffed.

"Nope," she said, tossing the rest of the six pack to the ground as she walked past. "Just this one."

Anna looked at Daryl, confused.

"She wanted to get it for Tara," Daryl explained.

Rosita scoffed.

"Are you seriously that stupid?" Rosita demanded, storming after Denise.

"Are you?" Denise asked, rounding on her as they approached. "I mean it. Are you? Do you have any clue what that was to me, what this whole thing is to me? See, I have training in this shit. I'm not making it up as I go along, like with the stitches and the surgery and the…" she trailed off looking to Daryl, "I asked you to come with me because you're brave like my brother and sometimes you actually make me feel safe." She looked to Rosita, "And I wanted you here because you're alone. Probably for the first time in your life." She then turned to Anna.

"And _you_ because you're stronger than you think you are, which gives me hope that maybe I can be, too." She paused and took a breath. "I could've gone with Tara. I could've told her I loved her, but I didn't because I was afraid. That's what's stupid," she laughed. "Not coming out here, not facing my shit. And it makes me _sick_ that you guys aren't even trying because you're strong and you're smart and you're all really good people, and if you don't wake—"

It felt like the world had slowed down as she came to the realization that an arrow had just split Denise's eye. Anna was vaguely aware of herself pulling her rifle off her back and positioning it in her hands.

"Up—" Denise went on to say. "and face your…" she trailed off, falling forward.

Daryl caught her and quickly laid her on the ground before getting his own shotgun ready as several men trickled out of the trees, guns ready.

"You drop 'em now!" Ordered a blond man—the side of his face heavily scarred—as he forced Eugene ahead of him.

Anna counted the men, took in Eugene's terrified face, and lowered her rifle.

"Well, hell," the blond man said, looking at Daryl. "You got something to say to me?" He asked. "You gonna clear the air? Step up on that high horse?" Daryl said nothing. "No. You don't talk much." He nodded his head for his men to pat them down and take their weapons and packs before he glanced at the crossbow in his hand—Daryl's crossbow. "Still getting the hang of her. Kicks like a bitch, but—"  
"I should've done it," Daryl growled.

"Oh, what's that?" The man asked. "Seriously, I didn't catch what you said."

"I should've killed you," Daryl repeated.

"Yeah, you probably should've," the man agreed. "So, here we are. Kind of begs the question, right? Who brought this on who? I mean, I get that you'll just have to take my word for this, but she wasn't even the one I was aiming for. Like I said, kicks like a bitch. It's nothing personal. Look, this isn't how we like to start new business arrangements, but, well, you pricks kind of set the tone, didn't you?"

"What do you want?" Rosita snapped.

"I'm sorry, darlin', I didn't catch your name," the man said, turning his attention on Rosita. "I'm D, or Dwight. You can call me either." He raised his one eyebrow. "So? What's your name?"

"Rosita. What do you want?" Rosita hissed.

"Well, _Rosita_," Dwight mocked. "It's not what I want. It's what you three are going to do. You're going to let us into your little complex. It looks like it's just beautiful in there. And then you're going to let us take whatever and whoever we want, or we blow Eugene's brains out. And then yours. Then hers. And then his. I hope it doesn't come to that, really. Nobody else has to die. We just try and start with one. You know, maximum impact to get our point across," he shrugged. "So, what's it gonna be? You tell me."

"You wanna kill someone, you start with our companion hiding over there behind the oil barrels," Eugene interrupted. "He's a first-class a-hole and he deserves it so much more than us four."

"Go check it out," Dwight ordered, and one man started towards the rusted, orange barrels.

Anna clenched her jaw, keeping her breathing steady as she looked between the barrels and the man holding her rifle. There was only so much she could do with the situation they were in.

"Ah!"

Anna's eyes snapped to Dwight to see his face contorted in pain and Eugene's face in his crotch. Not wasting any time, Anna rushed forward and kicked the back of the knees of the man in front of her. He fell to the ground as she yanked her rifle out of his hands; she whipped the butt of it across the back of his head and knocked him onto his stomach before firing a single shot into his skull.

She whirled around as the other men opened fire, sliding in the gravel as she threw herself behind a car for cover. Anna was only slightly aware of the others taking advantage of the distraction Eugene had provided—both Daryl and Rosita had also managed to get weapons, and were firing back while Abraham materialized from the woods. Dwight and Eugene fell to the ground, their arms covering their heads, and walkers began pouring from the trees.

Anna shot down one walker that ambled a little too close to Eugene.

"Fall back! Fall back!" Dwight shouted over the gunfire as he rolled off the tracks.

He clambered to his feet and darted into the trees, along with four of his men. Anna shot at them as they retreated.

"Shit," she growled as the last one vanished into the trees unscathed. With the enemy gone, Anna turned her attention to Eugene still laying on the tracks.

Daryl rushed past her, snatching up his crossbow as he started after Dwight.

"Daryl, stop!" She called.

He stuttered to a halt and turned back to her as she, Rosita, and Abraham ran to Eugene. Rosita applied pressure to the bullet wound in Eugene's side.

"You're gonna be okay," Rosita assured.

"We gotta get him out of here," Abraham said, grabbing Eugene's right arm.

Daryl came up on Eugene's left side and lifted him as Rosita took his legs. Anna took aim and shot a walker making its way toward them before turning back and grabbing their packs. She paused and stared at Denise laying still on the tracks, at the arrow still protruding from her eye socket. She shouldn't have been there.

_We'll come back for you,_ she promised.


	21. Chapter Twenty

Anna tapped her marker against the desk, staring at the open computer in front of her, a loading bar inching its way across the screen. Once it hit 100%, the disk tray popped open and she transferred the CD to its clear plastic case. Carefully, she wrote out _Denise_ across the cover.

With a sigh, Anna leaned back in her chair, tossing the marker onto the desk. After getting Eugene medical attention for his graze, Anna and Daryl immediately turned around and went back for Denise's body. They carried her back to Alexandria and buried her in the ever-growing graveyard.

Her attention was pulled to the orange soda resting on the corner of her desk. She'd taken it from Denise's bag. Denise had wanted to give it to Tara, to tell Tara she loved her. Now she would never get that chance. Anna could do it for her.

Death. It was an overbearing shadow over all of them. There was no escaping it. You could only hold on for so long before something—someone—took you out. It was just a fact of life, even before the world ended. You lived for as long as you could, and then you died.

Anna suddenly wondered how _she_ was going to die. It was inevitable that one day she would; it was just a matter of when and how. Then there was the question of what happened after. Would someone write in her file? Would someone make a CD for Jessie and Daryl? But what was there to put on it? Why would anyone bother?

Without much thought, Anna stood from her chair and grabbed a blank CD along with the camcorder Deanna had used for their entrance interviews. She quickly set up the camera and returned to her seat.

Daryl walked past the open door of the office then, not stopping to say anything. Anna rushed to the door to call out to him, but by the time she was in the hall, Daryl was already shutting the front door as he left.

She pursed her lips and returned to the office, shutting and locking the door before sitting back down. What was she going to say to him? Or, for that matter, to the camera?

Anna leaned forward and turned the thing on, the red light shining back at her as she sat back in her chair. She pursed her lips, trying to think of what to say.

"Hi," she started. "My name is Anna Wycoff."

* * *

Stepping out of the office, Anna headed for the bedroom to grab her stick, deciding it was time for some practice. Her rifle leaned against the dresser and her stick leaned against the arm chair in the corner on the other side of the room, but as she crossed the room, her eyes landed on a piece of folded paper on the bed. She paused and picked it up, flipping it open.

In Daryl's loose scrawl were the words _Be back for dinner_.

"Shit," Anna hissed, rushing from the room, grabbing her rifle as she passed.

She ran outside, seeing that Daryl's motorcycle was gone. How had she not heard it? She continued on through Alexandria, running for the front gates where she saw Rick, Tobin, Morgan, Sasha, and Abraham gathered.

"And where the hell are you goin'?" Rick asked as Abraham stepped in her path.

"Daryl, he—"

"I know. Glenn, Michonne, and Rosita went after him," Rick sighed as Tobin approached the gate.

"Where's the other car?" Tobin asked before turning back to the others. "We added two more cars yesterday. One of them's missing, the one we put right between those houses."

"You can barely see between the houses from up top," Abraham explained. "Especially at night."

"What are you talking about?" Anna demanded.

"Carol's gone," Sasha said.

"The note, can I see it?" Morgan asked.

Rick sighed and handed it over.

"You never saw any headlights, taillights?" Rick asked. "She's smart enough to cover her tracks."

Morgan turned to look past Anna, then looked back to the note.

"She must've left during the shift change," Sasha suggested.

"Morgan?" Anna asked, only for him to start towards the cars.

"Where are you going?" Rick called after him.

"I'm gonna go find her," Morgan answered.

"Wait," Rick snapped. "Tell Carl I'll be back soon. No one else leaves," he said, looking pointedly at Anna. He jogged over to the car as Morgan climbed into the driver's seat. "Everyone else stays ready for a fight," he said, getting in the passenger seat before the two drove out the front gates.

"Son of a bitch," Anna hissed.

"Glenn and the others, they're gonna bring him back," Sasha assured. "We need you here."

Anna glared after Rick and Morgan as Abraham shut the gate, clutching Daryl's note in her hand.

_I should be out there._

* * *

_Extra bullets, rations, a change of clothes._ Anna listed everything off in her head as she positioned said items in her pack.

"Where are you going?"

Anna froze and turned to see her brother standing in the doorway. She sighed and turned back to her pack, stuffing a small bag of toiletries and a rope inside before zipping it up.

"Those Saviors could be on their way right now," Jessie said.

She slung her pack over her shoulder.

"Daryl can take care of himself, Anna—and he's not alone. Michonne, Glenn, Rosita—they're out there with him," he insisted, walking into the room. "You don't need to be out there. You need to be here."

"You're right," Anna finally said, starting towards the bathroom.

"What?" Jessie scoffed. "You're agreeing with me?"

"I know, big shocker," Anna said, pulling open the closet door. "The Saviors could be on their way, and we're down _seven_ trained people. We need to keep as many people here as we can," she explained, pushing the pack onto the top shelf and tucking it behind a couple of shoe boxes.

"So, you're not going after Daryl?"

"No."

"Then why were you packing a bag?" Jessie asked.

"In case things go wrong," Anna shrugged. "I want to be ready."

* * *

Anna walked up the few steps to Maggie and Glenn's front door and knocked. She could see through the window that Maggie was sitting in front of Enid, but couldn't quite tell what they were doing.

"Come in," called Maggie, and Anna pushed the door open.

She approached the two and greeted them as she sat at the table.

"So, what's going on here?" Anna asked.

"Cutting Maggie's hair," Enid said, snipping away.

"Oh? Will you cut mine next?" Anna asked, smiling lightly as she tugged at her long strands.

"Sure," Enid nodded.

They sat quietly as Enid continued cutting.

"Okay," Enid finally said, combing her fingers through Maggie's much shorter hair.

Maggie picked up the small mirror and looked at her reflection, a small smile spreading across her face.

"I like it," Anna said.

"But, why?" Enid asked.

Maggie hummed, smoothing out her hair. "I have to keep goin'," she said. "And I don't want anythin' gettin' in my way."

Maggie suddenly stiffened and started taking deep breaths.

"Man, did I go too short?" Enid asked. "I-I only used to cut my dad's—"

"No, it's not that," Maggie assured breathlessly.

"Maggie?" Anna asked, reaching out.

"Ah!" Maggie cried, leaning forward in her chair.

"Maggie," Enid asked as Maggie rose unsteadily from her chair. She abruptly slid to the floor, her back against the table. "Maggie!"

Anna jumped out of her seat and knelt beside Maggie.

"Maggie, where does it hurt?" Anna asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"H-here," Maggie sobbed, pressing her hand over her stomach.

"What do we do?" Enid asked, panicking.

Anna took a deep breath and looked to Enid to see her staring horrified at Maggie.

"Enid—Enid, look at me," the teen turned her wide eyes at Anna. "Go get Abraham. We need to take Maggie to Hilltop."

Enid nodded and rushed from the house, and Anna turned back to Maggie.

"It's okay," Anna assured, rubbing circles into Maggie's back. "You're going to be okay."


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

The RV sped down the road and Anna sat in the back beside Maggie. She stared at the piece of paper in her hand, reading over the words again and again, as if they'd suddenly tell her why he left without her.

_Be back for dinner_.

She sighed heavily.

"He'll be back," Maggie said, startling her.

"You should be sleeping," Anna said.

Maggie rolled her eyes and smiled at her.

"He'll be back," she repeated.

They heard footsteps approaching, and they turned their attention to the hall to find Rick walking in. Anna scooted back onto the other bed to give him some room.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hey," Maggie said.

"We're gonna get there," Rick assured. "The doctor at the Hilltop, he's gonna make things better."

"How do you know?" Maggie asked, sniffling.

"Everything we've done, we've done together," Rick started. "We got here_ together,_ and we're still here. Things have happened, but it's always worked out for us— 'cause it's always been all of us. That's how I know." He took Maggie's hand and squeezed it. "'Cause as long as it's all of us, we can do anything."

Anna looked down at Daryl's note and worked her jaw. If only they were all together.

The RV slowed to a stop, and Rick pushed to his feet and made his way to the front. Anna leaned forward, trying to see down the hall.

"Go," Maggie said. "See what's going on."

Anna nodded and stuffed the paper in her pocket as she grabbed her rifle and followed after Rick.

"What?" Rick called.

"Enemy close," Abraham returned.

Anna stiffened and checked her rifle.

"We doin' this?" Abraham asked.

"No, we're not here for a fight," Rick said, holding his hand out to Anna.

"_We_ may not be here for a fight but _they_ might be," Anna countered. "So, we need to be ready."

Rick sighed and nodded before heading for the door. Abraham set the RV in park and grabbed his rifle as he stood. He looked to Anna and nodded before following Rick out.

Rick led Anna, Jessie, Abraham, Sasha, and Carl towards the Saviors, holding his hands and rifle up in a show of non-aggression. They stopped several yards away. The Saviors gathered in front of their trucks with a man lying on the ground in front of them

"He's someone who was with a whole lot of someones who didn't listen," the Savior at the front said.

He was tall and lanky, with a round, balding head.

"We can make a deal, right here, right now," Rick said.

"That's right, we can," the Savior said. "Give us all your stuff. We'll probably have to kill one of you—that's just the way it is. But then we can start moving forward on business. All you have to do is listen."

Anna stiffened, shifting on her feet as she gripped her rifle tighter.

"Yeah, that deal's not gonna work for us," Rick said. "Fact is, I was about to ask for all of your stuff, only I'm thinkin' I don't have to kill any of you." He paused. "Any _more_ of you," he corrected.

The man beside the apparent leader began to shake a can—what sounded like aerosol—and proceeded to spray paint a bright orange X on the torso of the man on the ground.

"Sorry," the leader said. "My deal is the only deal. We don't negotiate."

Rick shook his head and waved his hand in the air, signaling for them to get back in the RV.

"Me and my people are leaving," he said.

"Okay, friend," the leader said. "Plenty of ways to get to where you're going."

Anna stood at the door and waited for the others to climb in first as Rick stopped beside her.

"You want to make today your last day on Earth?" He asked, looking to the Savior leader.

"No," the balding man replied. "But that is a good thing to bring up. Think about it—" he put a finger to his head. "What if it's the last day on Earth for you? For someone you love? What if that's true? Maybe you should be extra nice to those people in that RV, 'cause you never know—" he snapped his fingers. "Just like that. Be kind to each other. Like you said, like it was your last day on Earth."

"You do the same," Rick said before climbing into the RV.

Anna took one last look at the Saviors, receiving a waggle of fingers from the leader before she pulled herself into the RV and slammed the door shut.

* * *

They drove for another thirty minutes, taking a secondary route to Hilltop. Anna had returned to sitting with Maggie in the back once again, periodically checking her temperature and handing her water. Maggie laid relatively still, her hand on her stomach.

"You know," Anna started. "I was pretty apprehensive about the baby when Glenn first told me."

"Really?" Maggie asked.

Anna nodded.

"And now?"

"Now? I'm excited—for the baby, for the future. For everything," Anna said, letting a smile spread across her face. "We're in a safer place now, and we're building something. Babies are a part of that."

"I have to remind myself of that when I get scared," Maggie said softly.

"It's okay to be scared, sometimes."

"We just can't let it keep us from livin'," Maggie finished.

"'May you live all the days of your life,'" Anna murmured, her fingers turning the bracelet around her left wrist.

"Jonathan Swift, right?"

"Yeah," Anna said, holding out her hand so that the other woman could see the words etched into the metal.

"Now I understand why you never take it off," Maggie said. "It's a good reminder."

"Yeah, it is."

Anderson had somehow recognized that she would need it. He told her to live—she only wished there were some way for her to let him know that she was trying.

"Do you think you and Daryl might try?" Maggie asked after a long silence.

"Try what?" Anna asked.

"Kids," Maggie clarified.

"The thought has crossed my mind once or twice," she admitted. "But no. I don't think I can—not after everything."

Maggie furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to speak when the RV came to another slow stop.

"What's going on?" Maggie asked, trying to sit up.

"Don't," Anna said, gently pushing her back down. "I'll go see. Just—don't move."

Anna grabbed her rifle and started down the RV, peering out the front window over Abraham's shoulder.

They were surrounded by forest on an old dirt road blocked by trucks and even more Saviors. Anna didn't recognize them from the group they'd run into before. Her brow furrowed as she counted.

There were sixteen men with rifles, not including any that might have been inside the vehicles or in the trees.

"We makin' our stand?" Sasha asked, looking to Rick.

"Yeah," Carl said, leaning around Anna. "We end it."

Anna shook her head. The Saviors outnumbered them by half, and they had to worry about Maggie in the back. No, they needed to keep moving.

"No, not now," Rick said. "They've been waiting. They're ready. With one of us behind the wheel, that's six on—" Rick counted quickly. "Sixteen. We're gonna play it our way, how _we_ want it." He turned to look at Carl. "Right?"

"Right."

"Alright, go slow," Rick instructed Abraham.

Abraham put the RV in reverse and started backing up. One Savior walked toward them and fired into the air. He continued to do so as they turned and drove away.

Anna stood back and took a deep breath. There were more Saviors than they had initially anticipated.

* * *

They found another route and Maggie had fallen asleep. Anna moved to the front of the RV, joining Rick, Abraham, and Sasha.

"How are we on gas?" Rick asked.

"Half a tank," Abraham answered. "I pulled some more cans before we left,"

"Those weren't the same men who blocked the road the first time," Anna said.

"Same outfit, different soldiers," Abraham agreed. "They got numbers."

"Yeah," Rick sighed. "We keep driving, we get her there."

"We will," Sasha assured.

"If we have to shove each and every one of 'em up their own asses," Abraham elaborated.

Anna couldn't help but laugh until Abraham suddenly hit the brakes. Anna braced herself on the driver's seat and the RV squealed to a stop. There, stretched across the road, was a chain-gang of walkers.

"We can't go through it," Rick said. "Can't risk the RV. You stay behind the wheel, just in case," he instructed Abraham. "We'll clear it. Sasha, Jessie, Carl, Eugene—" he listed off, gesturing for the four to follow him. "Anna, stay with Maggie."

Anna nodded, and they filed out of the RV.

She sat down in the passenger seat, peering through the window and squinting at the trees for any signs of Saviors.

"Can you believe this shit?" Abraham huffed, shaking his head.

Anna sighed, leaning back in her seat and running her fingers over the scope of her rifle.

"There's a lot more of them than we anticipated," she said. Rick's earlier words to Maggie echoed in her head.

"_Things have happened, but it's always worked out for us— 'cause it's always been all of us."_

She shook her head with a small smile. "We'll make it. As long as it's all of us—they don't stand a chance."

Abraham looked at her and hummed in response.

"What?" She asked.

"You," Abraham said. "I remember that day in the boxcar at Terminus. You said you were gonna burn that place to the ground. I didn't know it then, but it quickly became apparent that there is not a damn thing you wouldn't do for Daryl or Glenn or your brother. For any of them. I can respect that."

"They're my family," Anna said, nodding along before she looked to him and smiled. "You're family, too, Abraham. Even when you're an arrogant asshole."

Abraham chuckled. "You ain't got sunflowers sproutin' from your ass, either, sweetheart."

"What are you talking about? I shit rainbows," Anna insisted, laughing.

Gunfire cut her off, and she sprang to her feet.

"Get back to the RV! Go!" She heard Rick shout.

The others fired into the trees, trying to lay cover as Rick swung his hatchet at the center of the walker blockade. Set loose, the walkers separated and pawed at the meal just out of reach, but were quickly dispatched by Sasha.

"Start it up," Anna called as she ran to the door, leaving enough room to let the others in but still giving herself enough space to cover them.

There were two men hiding within the trees, seemingly waiting for them to turn their backs to enter the RV, so that they could pick them off. Anna raised her rifle as Sasha and Eugene climbed into the RV. Peering through the scope, Anna focused her sights on the man to her right, pulling back on the trigger. She already had her sights on the second man as the first fell, and she fired again as Jessie and Carl ducked inside.

"Go! Go!" Rick commanded as he slammed the door shut behind him, and Abraham pressed hard on the gas.

* * *

Anna's fingers twitched at her sides as she worked her jaw, considering the evidence. Two locks of Michonne's hair and a crossbow bolt with green and white fletching. Daryl's note burned in her pocket. _Be back for dinner_.

"What's that sound?" Sasha asked, her voice carrying to the back.

"Undercarriage could've caught a bullet," Eugene suggested. "Or could be transmission. It could be nothin'."

"They were firing at our feet," Rick said. "They blocked the road, but they weren't trying to stop us. They want us in this direction."

_"Plenty of ways to get to where you're going."_

"Barton Road takes us north," Sasha said from the table where she and Eugene leaned over the map. "But, they gotta know we wanna go north."

"Meadows," Eugene cut in. "Could take us east a piece, but we can get back on track on Meyhew."

Anna smoothed Maggie's hair away from her sweaty forehead, feeling the heat of her skin. She got to her feet and started towards the others.

"We're down to a third of a tank," Jessie said. "We could top off at the next stop, but that's all we've got."

Rick looked to her as she approached.

"She's burning up," Anna informed.

Rick bowed his head and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Rick!" Abraham called as he slowed the RV once more.

She and Rick approached the front and saw it. There had to be at least twenty-five Saviors gathered on the road, all armed, and all waiting.

"Go back," Rick instructed.

"Where?"

* * *

Anna glared at the piled-up trees crisscrossing across the road. They'd been stopped, again. She shook her head and bit back a groan of frustration. Now wasn't the time to let her emotions get the better of her. She needed to keep her head.

"These tracks," Eugene began. "They would indicate they not only have people, but some big-ass toys and capabilities."

"What it indicates," Abraham seethed, "is we are neck-deep up shit creek with our mouths wide open."

"Ah!"

The group spun around, rifles aimed, only to find a man bouncing at the end of chain, hanging from the bridge the RV was parked under. They all lowered their guns, except Jessie.

"Don't," Abraham said.

"I can try and break the chain," Jessie snapped.

"It won't work," Anna sighed.

"I can try—I can end it quickly if I have to," he insisted.

"It won't work," Rick said. "And we need the bullets."

Jessie didn't lower his gun, his hands shaking before he finally dropped the barrel.

Heat touched Anna's back. She and the others turned to see flames engulfing the trees.

"You're treating your people good, right?" Came a familiar voice from the other side. "Like it was your last day on Earth? Or maybe one of theirs?"

Anna clenched her jaw.

"You better go. It's gonna get hot," the man said. "You go get where you're going."

"Go," Rick ordered. "Go."

They boarded the RV and Abraham drove them back. Anna watched as the flames grew higher and higher until Abraham turned them around and drove them away.

Abraham drove them a few miles back the way they came, veering off into a muddy clearing and then parking.

"So, what's the play?" He asked, turning in his seat to the others gathered around the table.

"We've got two more routes north from here," Anna said, drawing her finger over said routes.

"They're probably waiting for us," Jessie grumbled.

Eugene took a deep breath.

"So, they're ahead of us, probably behind us. But they're not waiting on us, per se," he started. "They're waiting on this rust bucket. And they don't know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust-bucket." He looked to Rick. "And the sun sets soon."

* * *

"That's the last of it," Rick declared, walking back around the RV with a now empty gas canister as he approached Eugene, Anna, and Jessie. "If you see a car, try to siphon the gas. Other than that, you keep moving," he instructed Eugene.

"I'll have them thinkin' we're playin' their game. All phases of the turn, level after level, move after move, I'll keep 'em spun. I assure you, I will," Eugene said, nodding. "I got somethin' for you." He pointed at the piece of paper in Jessie's hands. "It's a recipe, and it ain't gazpacho. How to Build Bullets 101. Abraham can show you where, and Jessie can make 'em. Just in case."

"Thank you for this," Rick said. "For all of it. We're lucky you're here."

"I won't argue with that," Eugene said.

Anna smiled briefly and shook her head.

"We'll see you on the other side," Jessie said, patting Eugene on the shoulder.

"Someone should be going with you," Anna said.

"Not this time," Eugene said. "Rick and Jessie can carry Maggie. Sasha, Abraham, and Carl can cover, and you—" he paused. "You know the woods. You can navigate just about as good as Daryl. They need you leadin' them through the dark."

Anna pressed her lips together but nodded.

"Alright, man. You got this."

"I most certainly do," Eugene agreed.

They chuckled and headed off, allowing Abraham to take their place. Jessie and Rick boarded the RV to retrieve Maggie, and Anna went to stand with Sasha and Carl.

"We're gonna make it," Sasha said, nodding her head.

"It's been a long day," Anna sighed.

"We'll make it," Sasha repeated.

She felt a hand slip into hers, and Anna turned her head to see Carl looking at her.

"We'll make it," he echoed, squeezing her hand.

Rick and Jessie came out of the RV then, carefully carrying Maggie on a stretcher. They stopped to let her say goodbye to Eugene before Abraham and Sasha took up the sides of the stretcher.

Eugene climbed inside the RV and started the engine as the group headed into the woods, with Anna at the lead.

She kept her rifle steady in her hands, braced against her shoulder as she scanned their surroundings. She was careful not to walk too fast, keeping close to the others so as not to lose them. Anna wasn't sure how long they'd been walking.

A walker stumbled into their path and Carl rushed forward, using a machete to lop off part of its head. They continued walking undisturbed.

"Jessie," Maggie croaked. "Please. Just let me walk."

"Relax," Jessie said. "Just a few more miles."

Even just a few more miles seemed like lightyears away. The hairs on her neck stood on end. She felt like they were being watched—and the chances of that were high. She hated this—walking through the unknown to a destination she wasn't even sure they were going to reach.

"I heard what you told her when we were leaving," Carl said, cutting into the quiet. "We _can_ do anything, 'cause we'll do anything we need to do. We have and we will. What happened to Denise—I'm not gonna let anybody die like that again," he said, sounding so sure of himself.

"Son," Rick sighed.

"What?"  
Whistles filled the air. Two notes, the first high and the second low. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. She looked frantically about for the source, but saw nothing. They were surrounded.

"Go!" Rick hissed. "Go!"

They ran. Anna led them as she kicked fallen branches out of their way, the whistles ringing in her ears. They had to get to Hilltop. They had to make it.

Anna rounded a grouping of trees, followed closely by the others, when a bright light flooded the area, blinding her. She blinked rapidly, forcing her eyes to adjust as the whistling grew louder and more concentrated.

_Escape. We need to escape._

She trailed her wide eyes over the faces of each man gathered in a large circle around them. There were too many for her to count, and even still more in the trees. The whistling slowly died out, but her heart kept racing and her chest heaved.

"Good," a familiar voice said. "You made it."

She turned her head to see the tall, lanky man with his balding round head walking past Eugene, who was on his knees and had been beaten.

"Welcome to where you're going."


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

"We'll take your weapons," the Savior said, pulling a gun from his belt and pointing it at Abraham. "Now."

"We can talk about—" Rick tried.

"We're done talking," the Savior interrupted. "Time to listen."

Men approached them, taking their weapons. Anna held tight to her rifle, glaring at the man in front of her, but reluctantly let go. He slid his hand onto her hip and pulled her knife from its sheath.

"That's yours, right?" The leader said, and Anna turned to see he was speaking with Carl, holding his gun. "Yeah, it's yours," he said, flicking Carl's hat. "Okay. Let's get her down and get you all on your knees," he instructed, stepping back. "Lots to cover."

Some Saviors came to lower Maggie off the stretcher.

"Hold up," Abraham said, stopping them. "We got it."

"Sure, sure," the Leader relented, waving his men off.

Anna joined the others in lowering Maggie to the ground; she took her hand, helping her sit up. Abraham and Rick came on either side of her to guide her off the stretcher and to her knees. Eugene was shoved over to them, trembling, and Rick looked around at them before turning to the Leader.

"Gonna need you on your knees," the Savior said softly.

Rick was shaking. Anna tried to convince herself it was due to the cold, but the look in his eyes told her otherwise. He was scared. There were too many Saviors for them to face, and his son was in the line of fire. He got down on his knees.

Anna clenched her jaw and dropped down as well. There was nothing more they could do.

"Let's get the other ones, right now," the leader said and Anna tensed. "Dwight!"

"Yeah," the blond man said as he pushed through the crowd.

"Chop-chop."

Dwight went to a van with bullet holes riddling the doors he pulled open.

"Come on. You got people to meet," he said, pulling a bloody Daryl from the back of the van.

"Daryl," Anna gasped, rushing to her feet.

A hand coiled around her bicep and yanked her back, shoving her to the ground.

"Don't move," hissed a voice in her ear.

Anna's body went rigid as a tremor went through her bones. Her chest and throat tightened and tears sprang to her eyes as she slowly turned her head to see the man holding her in place.

He smiled back at her, the headlights shining on the freckles spattered across his sculpted nose. His bright hazel eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Good to see you again, Annie," Isaac said. "Been awhile."

"Alright!" Called the balding Savior. "We've got a full boat."

"You're gonna wanna pay attention," Isaac said, grabbing her chin and turning her head back to face forward before she heard him take a few steps back.

"Let's meet the man," the leader said, knocking lightly on the RV door.

It swung open, banging against the RV, and Anna flinched.

"Pissin' your pants yet?" Asked the man who stepped out, clad in a leather jacket and toting a wooden baseball bat. "Boy, do I have a feeling we're gettin' close," he said, walking into the light.

Anna tried to control her breathing, to stop herself from shaking, but she could feel Isaac's stare burning into the back of her skull. Just like that, she could feel his hands on her, the drag of the knife as it tore through her skin.

"Yep, it's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon," he said, surveying the group with a grin that, under normal circumstances, Anna would want to smack off his face. But these weren't normal circumstances, and Anna couldn't move. "Which one of you pricks is the leader?"

"It's this one," the balding Savior said, pointing out Rick in the lineup. "He's the guy."

The leather clad man turned to look at Rick and sighed before taking a few steps towards him.

"Hi. You're Rick, right? I'm Negan," he introduced. "And I do _not_ appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool," he said, dragging out the last word. "Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly."

Rick looked up at him.

"Yeah," Negan said, "you are _so_ gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes. Yes, you are. You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what, you don't mess with the new world order. And the new world order is this, and it's really very simple. So, even if you're stupid, which you very may well be, you can understand it. You ready?" He asked. "Here goes. Pay attention."

He dropped the bat to his side before pointing it at Rick.

"Give me your shit or I will kill you."

Anna clenched her jaw, her hands balled into fists resting on her thighs. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to make it to Hilltop. They were supposed to beat the Saviors. Isaac was supposed to be dead.

_Isaac was sprawled out on the ground, the side of his jacket blooming with blood. He lay still, and she couldn't see steam rising from his lips._

"Today was career day," Negan announced as he paced down the line. "We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do." He paused and looked back at Rick. "You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That's your job. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most _certainly_ will." He walked back to Rick. "You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it.

"But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close," Negan said. "In fact, you are pegged. More pegged if you don't do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. And if that's too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it'll even out sooner or later." He took a step back and held his arms out, as if displaying himself to them. "This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be."

"_Don't fight, Annie. You'll just make it harder on yourself."_

"So, if someone knocks on your door, you let us in," Negan said, walking up and down the line. "We own that door. You try to stop us and we will knock it down. You understand?" He asked, stopping in front of Rick again.

Rick said nothing, and Negan put his hand to his ear, leaning in.

"What, no answer?" Negan straightened. "You don't really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished, now, did you?"

Anna tensed.

"_Good girls get rewarded. And bad girls? Bad girls get punished."_

"I don't want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now, can you?" Negan asked. "I'm not growin' a garden. But," he sighed, "you killed my people. A whole damn lot of them. More than I'm comfortable with. And for that—for that you're gonna pay. So, now…" he looked down the line and then again at Rick. "I'm gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you."

Negan twirled his bat and held it out for them to see clearly.

"This—this is Lucille, and she is _awesome_," he said, stepping back. He gestured around at his men. "All this—all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor."

Negan began down the line again, looking each of them over in turn. He stopped at Abraham, who straightened and stoically stared back. Negan ran his hand over his mouth and hummed.

"I gotta shave this shit," he said before starting back in the other direction and stopping in front of Carl.

"You got one of our guns," he commented. "Whoa," he said, squatting. "Yeah, you got a lot of our guns." Carl glared back. "Shit, kid, lighten up. At least cry a little."

He chuckled and cleared his throat as he stood, starting again down the line up where he stopped at Maggie.

"_Jes-us_. You look _shitty_. I should just put you out of your misery right now," he suggested, raising his bat.

"No!" Glenn shouted, scrambling to his feet and running for Negan. "No!"

Dwight rushed forward and grabbed Glenn, slamming him to the ground. Anna winced and stared helplessly as Dwight aimed Daryl's crossbow at Glenn's head.

"Stop it!" Maggie cried.

"Nope. Nope, get him back in line," Negan ordered.

Dwight dragged Glenn back to his original position, Glenn begging for him not to touch Maggie. Anna's nails dug into her palms as she stared in front of her. She couldn't move.

"Alright, listen," Negan said. "Don't any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, _no_ exceptions. First one's free. It's an emotional moment, I get it," he said, pointing at Glenn. "Sucks, don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit," he said, looking to Rick. Then he looked back at Carl. "This is your kid, right?" He laughed, walking toward Carl. "This is definitely your kid."

"Just stop this," Rick shouted.

"Hey!" Negan snapped. "Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don't make it easy on me." Negan said. "I gotta pick somebody. Everybody's at the table waiting for me to order."

He whistled, the high note then the low, as he languidly strolled down the line.

"I simply cannot decide," he chuckled as he turned away for a moment. "I got an idea," he grinned, turning back.

He walked forward and pointed his bat at Rick. "Eenie."

He pointed at Maggie. "Meenie."

Abraham. "Miney."

Anna. "Mo."

Michonne. "Catch."

Rosita. "A."

Daryl. "Tiger."

Glenn. "By."

Sasha. "His toe."

Jessie. "If."

Carl. "He hollers."

Eugene. "Let him go."

He continued back and forth down the line, pointing his bat at each of them in turn.

"My mother told me to pick the very best one and you—are—it." He raised his bat. "Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father and then we'll start. You can breathe. You can blink, you can cry. Hell," he laughed. "You're all gonna be doing that."

The crack of the bat echoed in Anna's ears as she watched Abraham fall forward under the force of the hit. But he pushed himself back up.

"Oh!" Negan hollered. "Look at that! Taking it like a champ!"

"Suck… my… nuts," Abraham ground out, blood gushing down his forehead.

Another blow to the head had him back on the ground. Negan didn't give him a chance to get back up this time, bringing the bat down on his head over and over again. Anna could feel hot blood spatter across her face, but she didn't look away.

"Did you hear that?" Negan barked. "He said, "Suck my nuts,'" he laughed. "Oh, my goodness! Look at this!" He said, swinging his bat and the bits of brain still dangling off it. "You guys, look at my dirty girl! Sweetheart," he said, turning to Rosita and holding the end of the bat in her face. "Lay your eyes on this."

Rosita averted her eyes.

"Oh, damn," Negan said, looking between Rosita and what was left of Abraham. "Were you—were you together?" He asked. "That sucks. But if you were, you should know—there was a reason for all this. Red—and hell, he was, is, and will ever be red. He just took one or six or seven for the team! So, take a damn look," Negan ordered. She did not comply. "Take a damn look!"

Daryl jumped to his feet and swung, his fist landing square against Negan's jaw.

"Daryl!" Anna cried as two men swarmed him. She frantically tried to rise to her feet as they threw him to the ground.

"No!" Negan yelled, pointing his bloody bat at Anna as Isaac wrapped his arms around her, dragging her back to the lineup and on her knees. "Oh, no," he said calmer.

"That?" Negan said, turning his attention back to Daryl. "Oh, my! That is a no-no. The whole thing—not one bit of that shit flies here."

"Do you want me to do it? Right here?" Dwight asked as he aimed Daryl's crossbow.

"No," Negan said, grabbing a fistful of Daryl's hair and lifting his head. Daryl grunted and struggled against the man holding him, his eyes landing on Anna. "No, you don't kill that—not until you try a little."

Dwight lowered the crossbow and helped drag Daryl back to the lineup.

"And, anyway—that's not how it works. Now, I already told you people—first one's free, then—what'd I say?" Negan asked, standing. "I said I would shut that shit down. No exceptions." He gripped his bat.

"Please," Anna breathed shakily. "Don't. Please," she sobbed.

"Sh," Isaac said, holding her still and angling her towards Daryl.

"Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with, but I'm a man of my word," Negan explained. "First impressions are important. I need you to know me. So," he said, looking at his bat for a moment, "back to it."

Negan whirled around and brought his bat down hard on Glenn's head.

"No!" Maggie screamed as Glenn fell to the ground.

_"Is Glenn worth that to you?" Anderson asked._

"_He is to me," Anna scoffed._

An unintelligible cry ripped from Anna's throat.

Glenn pushed himself up, unsteady as he looked to Maggie. Anna felt her stomach turn at the sight of his left eye popped out of its socket.

_"It's okay?"_

"_No, I was supposed to protect you," she insisted._

"Buddy, you still there? I just don't know," Negan said as Glenn groaned and sputtered. "It seems like you're tryin' to speak, but you just took a hell of a hit. I just popped your skull so hard, your eyeball just popped out, and it is gross as shit!"

_Glenn's hand tightened around Anna's until her fingers started to tingle._

"Maggie," Glenn gurgled, blood pouring down his face. "I'll—I'll find you."

"Oh," Negan sighed, pausing to look around at them. "Oh, hell. I can see this is hard on you guys."

Glenn whimpered as he struggled to stay upright.

"_Don't do anything stupid," Anna said, hugging Glenn to her._

"_No promises," he replied with an easy grin as they pulled away._

"I am sorry," Negan said. "I truly am. But I did say it. No exceptions!"

He turned back around and swung, the bat connecting with Glenn's jaw. Anna dry heaved as Glenn toppled over, the sound of crushing bone—crying—

"You bunch of pussies," Negan taunted. "I'm just getting started."

Anna's body convulsed in Isaac's grasp as the bat rose and fell, blood spurting. Through the haze, she wondered if it would ever stop. She just wanted it to stop.

Anna's body went limp as Negan finally stepped back, letting the bat dangle at his side. "Lucille is thirsty. She is a vampire bat."

She was vaguely aware of him walking back to Rick, but Anna didn't take her eyes off the bloody heap that was Glenn Rhee.

"What? Was the joke that bad?"

"_I don't think I ever had a real friend," Glenn said. "Not 'til you—and everyone here. You guys are my family_."

* * *

The story continues in... _Anchors_


End file.
